Harry's Chosen One
by Ariaeris
Summary: Ten men, forty tales, one true love. To whom, above all else, does the Savior's heart belong to? Slash, obviously. Now with the ten promised deviations!
1. Frosted Pane

I really wasn't planning on posting these drabbles anytime soon, but here you go! Please leave a review telling me what you thought of this drabble, because I need to know if someone liked this or not! I would love any constructive criticism that anyone might have, but please no flames. I think we can all do without those and in the end it will just add to my review count, hopefully bringing in more readers. So if you think about it, you'll only be helping me in the end!

I'm not J.K. Rowling so I obviously do not own the Harry Potter series, so in other words I am not making a profit off this. That was an official disclaimer brought to you by Ariaeris Co.

Abby, this is my Christmas gift to you. Hopefully it's good, and you will enjoy it. Remember you picked the 'C'!

* * *

Harry stood at the window, watching the snow fall in heavy sheets. It had been snowing for almost four hours and snow had covered the ground like a thick, white blanket. He shivered slightly, placing one pale hand on the frost-bitten window. His lips parted in a gasp as he felt just a fraction of the freezing weather currently spinning in uncontrollable circles outside. Too cold to be stood, his hand jerked back from the window after a moment's delay.

"That cold, love?" spoke a baritone voice from behind him.

Starting a little and releasing an audible squeak, Harry whirled around to see his grinning lover. Narrowing his eyes at the sight of his lover's satisfied grin plastered on his face, he turned back around with a huff to face the chilling weather once more.

Bastard, he thought as he ignored his lover with an ease that comes only through patience and much experience.

"Harry? You okay? I was just playing with you. Oh come on," his lover pleaded pitifully; "It was just a joke."

Smiling slightly at his lover's antics, Harry leaned back on the other man's chest when he felt him come up behind him, feeling the comfortable heartbeat through both of their, thankfully not maroon, sweaters. Tilting his head back slightly, he caught his lover by surprise by grabbing the hair at the base of his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. Feeling his lover's tongue at the entrance of his mouth, he parted his lips, allowing Cedric's tongue to begin its conquest of his mouth.

After a moment, they both pulled away, breathing heavily, trying to prolong the pleasure that comes only with being in a loved one's arms. Harry noticed that Cedric's arms had migrated to where they were wrapped tightly around his waist, while his own had moved to encircle his lover's neck.

Harry felt Cedric's mouth move against his shoulder as he spoke saying, "While not unappreciated, love, can I ask what I did to deserve this impromptu kiss?"

Ignoring his lover's question for the time being, Harry responded with his own question. "Cedric promise me that you'll be careful today, okay? It's been snowing a lot and you have to go out in that, and-"

"Shh," whispered Cedric, noticing the worried inflection in Harry's tone. "What's the matter, Harry? You know I'm always careful. Is something wrong?"

Looking up at his lover's concerned gaze, Harry remembered that Cedric was always careful and it was his caution that had saved them during that event, the event that was silently agreed on to never be brought up again. The same event, that after almost a decade, still brought nightmares to Harry's fitful sleep, like it did last night.

Harry remembered that night vividly though. If not for Cedric's caution they would both likely have been dead. Cedric was cautious though, and if he had not levitated the trophy-turned-portkey in between them as they had explored the graveyard, well let's say that Harry didn't need a seer to figure out what would have happened. He had heard the 'Avad-'as he had been whirled away in a storm of magic.

Feeling his lover shake him into the present he heard Cedric ask "So is everything alright? You seemed a little nervous about something."

Giving a bright smile, one that seemed much more realistic then the one he had given in the morning, Harry simply said, "Nothing's wrong at all. Nothing at all."

* * *

So how was it? Good? Bad? So horrible you need steel wool for the brain to get rid of the horrible images? Review and tell me! All it takes is to press that pretty green box below. You know you want to...


	2. Angles

Here we are with my second drabble! I think it's okay but I need all my readers, and I know I have some, to review and tell me how it is! Just a word or two would be excellent and I will love you forever and ever!

Anyways, thank you Mariel Nightstalker and jpillmouse for reviewing. Love you both!

Also, and I am so sorry for forgetting to write this down, but this drabble series is NOT my idea! I got this idea off of Live Journal from someone named duochanfan. She/he gets the credit for the basic idea of the series but these drabbles are mine and mine alone! I just took my creative license and added Cedric/Harry to the list of pairings she/he gave us to choose from to write, because I really like that pairing. I don't know if I'm supposed to contact her or not about me accepting her challenge but, since I do not have an LJ account, if anyone sees her could you possibly tell her I am doing his/her challenge? Thanks!

Disclaimer: I said it before and I'll say it again. I do not own the Harry Potter series.

Now that the author notes are out of the way, enjoy the drabble!

* * *

"Okay explain this once more. If one angle of a triangle equals forty-six degrees and there is this boxy thing in the corner-"

"That's the symbol for a right angle, remember Harry?"

"No. No, I do not Remus. I do not understand how this boxy thing equals a right angle. What the hell is a right angle anyways!?"

Remus bit his lip to contain his sigh. Teaching Harry geometry was not a particularly fun task, especially since Harry had only a sixth grade education in mathematics. The fact that last time that he had a math class was almost a decade ago didn't help matters either.

"A right angle is an angle that equals ninety degrees, okay Harry?" Remus said cautiously. The last thing he wanted was to enflame the infamous Evans temper that Harry had acquired from Lily. Math lessons were hard enough without a sullen Harry.

"Yeah, yeah I get it. Why am I even learning this? I will never need to know how to calculate the angles of triangles in real life. What is the point of this?" Harry exclaimed.

"We are learning about triangles because you were bored and the fact that you cannot survive in the world with a sixth grade education in math. So sit down and continue. The sooner you complete this problem the sooner we can both do more fun things," Remus replied, a note of his exasperation with the situation leaking into his voice.

Smirking slightly, Harry turned to look at Remus. "What sort of fun things, Remus?" Harry purred, his voice leaving little question about what he was implying.

Remus' face instantly became a particularly attractive shade of red. "Not that kind of fun Harry!"

"Not even if I do all my work, Professor," Harry purred once again, stressing Remus' title.

Remus realized at that moment that if he did not regain control of his situation, then his desk would become a seriously messy place. That was unacceptable seeing as he had just got his desk neat and clean looking from yesterday's activities.

Gulping almost imperceptibly, although not imperceptibly enough to escape Harry's vibrant green eyes, Remus spoke once again in what was hopefully a commanding tone.

"Harry, you have to finish your work now. Not in an hour, not tomorrow, but now. So get to work, love. If I see your worksheet correctly, then you have quite a bit to go."

Harry sighed and then pouted slightly. "Are you sure we can't have a quickie - I mean quick - break Remus?"

Blushing once more, Remus resisted the urge to give into his seductive lover. There was no way he was giving into his little minx. He was older, more mature, and on top in this relationship! He should be able to have more self restraint then this!

"No Harry. Finish your worksheet and then maybe we can…" Remus trailed off once he saw the look in his lover's eyes, which can be translated as one word.

Score.

"Remus dear..." purred Harry seductively as he got up from his desk.

Remus would have to clean up his desk again.

* * *

All done! Tell me how it was and if you preferred the first or second drabble. I personally think seductive Harry is more fun to write then serious Harry but I would like the reader's input and opinions. Hope you enjoyed this drabble, the next one will be up in a day or two, and I promise that no one will guess the pairing (That was a challenge right there folks. See if you can guess what the next pairing will be...).


	3. Shiny

Hello! I'm so sorry this chapter is so late but my internet connection has been so screwed up. We're in the middle of two snowstorms where I live and I am so lucky I have this gap in the snow fall so that I can post this.

Anyways, thank you Miss Meehan, Pandora of Ithilien, and Mariel Nightstalker for reviewing! I love you guys so much!

No one tried to guess the pairing, but I know I must of made a few readers curious! So the pairing for this drabble is...

Kingsley/Harry

Oh, it goes there.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except myself and a pixy stix

Enjoy!

* * *

There was a quietness, no a tranquility that comes with an air of serenity, a gentleness that encompassed all, a subtle effect to be sure and one that, if not truly of aesthetic pleasure, then at least one that is gentle on the mind. A silence, not uncomfortable but welcomed, permeated the office, the rustling of papers the only sound, and yet even that sound faded into the ambiance of the world, unremarkable and not disturbing the air of the room at all. A truly remarkable thing that silence, one any educated mind would treasure so dearly and hold close to oneself if fear of that soothing, yet evanescent, pleasure escaping their grasp.

Too bad it had to be ruined.

"What would you call a female Auror? An Aurora?" Came the voice that shattered that blessed silence like so many sledgehammers connecting with a glass pane.

Kingsley's grip on his quill tightened ever so slightly, which is to say that his hand was soon covered with bright blue ink. Seeing Harry reach for his wand, he quickly preformed his own silent, wandless 'Evanesco' charm, the ink quickly disappearing into the void. An amazing motivator that panic is. He didn't know he could perform wandless magic silently, but then again he had been trapped between a hippogriff and a hard place. If he had said the charm out loud he would have had, eventually, a sobbing Harry crying over how his boyfriend didn't trust him to perform magic on him. Then again, if he had let Harry cast a spell on him he could have ended up with four hands like last time. How did Harry even mess up a charm a half-dead idiot could do in his sleep? Then again, Voldemort could do a lot of crap and he was about ¾ dead when Harry had finally killed him.

Seeing Harry's focus back on him, Kingsley raised a single eyebrow, silently questioning Harry over why the hell he wanted to know what female Aurors were called. After a few seconds he realized that such a sophisticated form of communication might have surpassed Harry's _severely_ constrained intellect.

Clearing his thought he began, "Why do you ask? And no, female Aurors are not called Auroras. They are magical police officers not ethereal wonders."

Blink. "Excuse me?" came Harry's response, confusion painted across his boyfriend's verdant eyes.

"Did you not hear me?"

"No, I did. It's just that you said 'ethereal'. No one says that any more!"

Now it was Kingsley's turn to be confused. "And why not?

"Because," Harry said in a tone usually reserved for children who don't shut up when their told, "It's completely old-fashioned."

Harry's response drew a snort from the elder man. "You live in a culture where half the population refuses to believe in the existence of electricity. Old-fashioned is the current fashion these days. What would you describe the Aurora Borealis as anyways?"

"Shiny" came the simple response.

Kinsley leaned back in his desk chair. How the hell had this man defeated the greatest Dark Lord the world had ever seen? How had this man kept Hogwarts standing while he was Headmaster? How had this man wormed his way into his own heart? Looking at the innocently smiling man before him, he followed his instincts and decided that it was probably better not knowing at all.

* * *

This has to be a first for the pairing. I made a promise to myself: by the time this drabble series is over, I will have made at least 10 people interested in Kingsley/Harry. If you think about it, it can be a really fun pairing to write, mainlly because it is so original. For those who don't believe me, just wait for the next few drabbles on this pairing, because I put alot of effort into them.

On a quirky little side note, I described Harry's eyes as verdant, a word for green. According to a dictionary I own, verdant is also a word for naive! So Harry has green eyes and is naive! I love it when words work together like that, especially if it is by accident.

Remember, I absolutely adore reviews. And as a bonus for reviewing, if you are one of my first 10 reviewers and send me in a request for a pairing, I will write you a drabble for that pairing and post it at a later date! I already have 2 pairings requested, so I need 8 more before I can post them as a thank you for my reviewers! So review and I'll dedicate a drabble to you!

On a side note, I would like to know people's reactions to Kingsley/Harry. I'm expecting quite a few 'WTFs'.


	4. Gameface

Hello Readers! This chapter is for the 500 hits that I have gotten for this story, which to me is quite alot!

Thank you Pandora of Ithilien and Mariel Nightstalker for reviewing! Your reviews mean alot to me and I love you alot for them!

I would also like to thank Desiqtie and LilyRianneEvans for adding me to their C2's and Pandora of Ithilien (again!) and drarryismylife for adding me to their alert lists! These things make me so happy and were wonderful early Christmas presents. Thank you!

Also, thank you everyone who has been reading my drabble series, even if you do not review. Just knowing that people are looking at my fic fills me with fuzziness. Reveiws are awesome too though!

Okay enough Author Notes, time for the story! Almost...

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything pertaining to the Harry Potter Series except for my own twisted ideas on how the series should have gone.

Now were ready!

* * *

Oliver stood at the entrance of the Hospital Wing, trying to will his body to move forward despite his hesitance. The icy grip of fear had lodged itself deep within him and seemed quite comfortable there, for it had not left since the fateful Quidditch game hours before. Fear had not left him after he had seen his seeker's falling body, shielded slightly by the tattered black cloaks of the Dementors which lusted after the young man's soul. If not for the quick thinking of the Headmaster, Harry would have been little more then a soulless pile of good, splattered across the Quidditch field. Magic be damned, if you fell headfirst from a distance as far as Harry did, you were dead.

Oliver considered himself a simple fellow, straight-forward and quick-to-action, but he was by no means stupid. While no physics major, he knew that an object's speed would increase at the same rate as long as it was falling until it reached a maximum speed or hit another object. Harry would have been falling for over twenty seconds by the time he would have reached the ground and there had been no chance that Oliver or anyone else would have been able to catch him. Thank Merlin for quick thinking Headmasters.

Shuddering slightly as he realized once again how close Harry had come to death, Oliver moved forward quickly, Fear overriding Hesitation for the moment. Too soon though, Hesitation came back and it was pissed with him for trying to kick it out. Oliver's breath started to come in small gasps as Fear melded with Hesitation and formed some bastard creation that left him shaking. What was he supposed to say to Harry when he saw him? How was he supposed to ask for forgiveness for allowing his youngest teammate to get hurt? How could he possibly look at Harry's damaged body without Guilt joining his internal part and sending him spiraling into depression? How could he possibly look into Harry's eyes and not admit that when he saw the seeker's falling body, his heard had stopped beating and the world seemed to lose its color...?

He couldn't do this. He hadn't practiced this enough, he wasn't ready. That's a laugh. Him, Obsessive Quidditch Fanatic, had forgone practice? Blasphemous, but true. Try as he might, reciting exactly what he was going to say to Harry in front of his mirror multiple times, he could not figure out what the hell to say to the younger man. Sorry? Are you okay? Do you need anything? He was shitty at this sort of thing and now, at the moment when he was about to greet his teammate, he was at even more of a loss.

Getting a glimpse of Madam Pomphrey bustling around the Hospital Wing, he called her over. Perhaps that was incredibly rude, but she came anyways. After asking her to tell Harry that he stopped by and that he would be back later to see him, he left for Gryffindor Tower. He had three hours before he promised to return and see Harry, and those three hours would be devoted to practicing how the hell he would tell Harry everything he was feeling at the moment. Practice makes perfect though, and Oliver was determined that by the time three hours pass, he would be as ready as he ever will be to confront his seeker.

* * *

Reviews are fun, reviews are nice, reviews are cool, just like ice! Lookit, I'm a poet and I didn't know it :P! Just joking, but reviews are really appreciated! Remember, I'm still taking 8 different pairings to write drabbles on, so review and get you pairing to me!

Love to all my readers, and have a safe and happy holidays!

Ariaeris


	5. Deep Snark

Hello Readers!

I actually have no idea where this drabble came from, it's so random! I wanted to have a drabble set in someone else's point of view so I eventually came out with this idea. I hope it's acceptable and it may even get a chuckle out of you if I'm lucky!

For a quick second I would like to thank some-77-kid, Pandora of Ithilien, and Mariel Nightstalker for reviewing! You guys rock so much and I'm working on your drabbles!

Also I would like to thank everyone who visited my story. 131 hits for a single drabble! Yay, me!

**Disclaimer: **Do I look like a billionaire-genius authoress? Do I sound like a master of writing? No? I didn't think so.

* * *

Hermione was sitting in the library at number 12 Grimmauld Places, studying for her newts. She was expecting some nice quiet time relaxing, reading maybe trying to memorize a few hundred facts or so. Sadly it was not to be for at that moment possibly the most disruptive thing on the face of the Wizarding World walked into the library. 

Harry Potter. And he was wearing a confused expression.

'Damn it, why the hell is he here?' whined Hermione mentally.

'To ask your help with something. He is clearly confused about something and so he has come to his genius friend, Hermione, for help.' Replied a snide voice. Now, you would think that Hermione would have been worried about hearing voices in her head, but she dismissed it as a sign of her genius.

'Oh look! He's spotted you! Wonderful…' muttered the same voice, with no small amount of sarcasm lacing its tone.

Sure enough, the Boy-Who-Killed-You-Know-Who was making his way over to the resident super genius. Sighing, Hermione ran her hand through her hair, mentally preparing herself for the coming conversation.

"Hermione, I think something may be wrong with Sirius." Said Harry once he had made his way in front of Hermione.

At this Hermione chocked on saliva as Deep Snark, as she had so aptly labeled the voice in her head, spat out the popcorn it had been eating. Deep Snark had sat back, ready to watch whatever stupidity would spew forth from Harry's mouth on today's episode of 'Idiocy with Harry' when it had been shocked by Harry's almost perceptive statement.

'No way!' exclaimed Deep Snark once all the kernels had unclogged themselves from his throat. 'You cannot tell me that Captain Oblivious over there has noticed what Sirius has been up to. I mean Sirius has hardly been subtle with his proclamations of love, if Sirius knows what subtle means, but this is the man who is oblivious to the fact that 2/3 of the Wizarding World is lusting after him!'

'Although it's true that Harry is very oblivious, he is not stupid. I mean, Sirius could have done something drastic like writing "I love you" in neon lights. Even Harry would have figured that out. Also, Harry is very close to Sirius and eventually Harry would figure out that something is wrong with Sirius.' Thought Hermione matter-of-factly.

'If you say so' replied Deep Snark doubtfully, 'but Harry didn't even figure it out after the rhubarb pie incident and even a blind person would have saw it then.'

Hermione shuddered slightly at the memories of THAT incident. Somehow she managed to ground out to her friend, "Why do you say that?"

"Well, he has been acting very weird. Like he is hinting at something. Do you know what I mean?" explained Harry.

'Wait this could be my chance at a breakthrough!' exclaimed Hermione mentally. "Not really, Harry. Could you tell me how Sirius' has been acting weird?"

Harry nodded. "Sure. Today at breakfast he had neon lights spelling out 'I love you' over his head and he was staring at me. Do you think he is okay?"

Hermione prayed for strength.

* * *

Yay! The return of Oblivious!Harry! So fan we have Worrying!Harry, Oblivious!Harry, Injured!Harry, and Seductive!Harry. What roles will Harry play next chapter. While you all will just have to wait and see! Actually anyone who reviews will get the answer along with the next pairing. If that isn't enough motivation to review, then I will tell you that I'm still accepting 7 drabble ideas for my "Thank You" series to my reviewers.

If that isn't enough motivation, then if you will review, then I will love you forever.

So please review!

Until next time,

Ariaeris


	6. Smiles

Sorry this took so long to get out! I've been so busy with the beginning of school again that I have not had that long to go on the Internet. In any case I will not abandon this story despite how horrible school may get. It just might take a little longer to post new chapters.

Anyways, thank you MatoakaWilde, Pandora of Ithilien, and Mariel Nightstalker for reviewing. You guys rock so much!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, and I have published nothing except for single poem. As I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor is this a poem, you can infer that I do not own this.

Oh, and Harry is 16 here. You'll understand why I said that if you read the drabble!

* * *

He does not have a perfect smile. 

That much is plainly obvious to Harry as he glances at his toiling lover. Then again neither of them had much reason to smile in the first place. Too many things, too many worries kept both Harry and his lover from expressing any positive emotions in the first place.

Because positive emotion is unfitting and unbecoming of a Slytherin, thinks Harry bitterly. That lesson had been a painful one to learn and had been the first of many long and painful arguments between the two. Harry had come into this relationship expecting warmth and happiness and love and _belonging._

He had received none of those. Well maybe that's a little bit of an exaggeration, thinks Harry, trying to understand the enigmatic layers that surround his lover. His lover had given him a sense of love. Or at least strong affection. Harry could not tell the difference. He had received such little amounts of love in his sixteen years of life that he had little idea over what he was feeling. He was pretty sure that what he was feeling constituted as love. He could only hope that his feelings were not one-sided.

Returning to the matter at hand, Harry continued thinking about his lover's lack of emotions. Logically, Harry knew that there were various and all well founded reasons why his lover could not show emotions in public. If he showed any emotion whatsoever, over anything at all, then people would be on him like hawks, searching for a reason for his peculiar and abnormal behavior. In today's bleak society, showing any signs of emotions could cast his lover into suspicion.

Suspicion was the last thing the lovers needed, for following on the heels of suspicion would come investigators from the damned Ministry of Magic. If the relationship between Harry and his lover came to light from the Ministry's meddling the repercussions, which would occur for there would be no chance at explaining his relationship at all, would be dire indeed.

Harry snorted audibly at the severe downplaying of the situation in which he had ensnared himself. His snort had momentarily drawn the gaze of his lover, but a quick nod had dispelled whatever curiosity his lover may have held over his breaking of the silence that permeated the room they were in. Saying that his relationship would draw the ire of the people in the Wizarding World would be like saying that Voldemort was only a petty criminal. It was ridiculous.

The relationship between both Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived, and his lover, a suspected Death Eater (by some at least), would have gotten them arrested. Harry would have been arrested for consorting with the enemy or some other crap that Fudge would drudge up to ruin him and his lover for statutory rape. Not to mention the very likely loss of every single person close to him, from his friends to the small amount of people he could consider family.

Despite the risks and the almost constant lack of emotions from his lover, the rare flashes of Lucius' crooked half-smile convinced Harry that it was all worth it anyways.

* * *

So how was it? I need people to review to see if anyone actually likes the things I write. Although I am eternally grateful to the people who reviewed my fics, I have to ask if anyone is actually reading this. The first chapter gained almost 400 hits, and yet the most recent chapter as not even earned a tenth of that. So is anyone actually reading and/or enjoying this other then my faithful reviewers? In any case, as long as I get at least a single review each chapter then I will continue updating! 

Also remember, I'm still taking 7 pairing suggestions for my 'Thank you for the review' drabble series dedicated just to my reviewers. So get those suggestions in!

Love you all and wishing you all a happy 2008,

Ariaeris


	7. Annabel Lee

It's been a little while, but I'm back! My internet over here is so screwy with me because of a recent snowstorm, and it is pissing me off. I managed to get this chapter out to you guys though, so here it is.

I would like to thank Mariel Nightstalker, Shinigami's Shadow and SilverPantsSven, and Pandora of Ithilien. Shinigami, this chapter is just on your request.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Harry Potter series nor do I own any of Edgar Allen Poe's works of poetry.

Oh, and so it hopefully isn't confusing:

Key (Words)

"Key" (Speech)

_"Key" (_Poem)

**_Key _**(You'll see)

* * *

It was a warm and humid day when Harry decided to go with his longtime boyfriend for a routine ward-breaking mission. Bill had been asked to unweave a minor ward around a set of ruins recently discovered on the island of Crete. He had quickly grabbed a book of poetry, which he had recently taken a liking to, and had latched on to the old Barbie doll that they had been using as a portkey, before they were whisked away in a portal of magic. 

Now, Harry sat on a crumbled marble staircase, watching his boyfriend below try to disassemble a pale lilac dome that had recently appeared around a pedestal that was situated in the middle of the amphitheater they were in. Apparently the pedestal once held an important object belonging to the Greek Goddess of Chaos, Eris, but now it was just a solemn, singular pillar encased with an outdated protection ward. Harry turned a page in his book as he watched his boyfriend toil.

"_It was many and many a year ago…"_

Glimpsing up, he saw his boyfriend's pale fingers begin to

_**glide across ivory skin leaving shivers in their wake.**_

Blushing hotly at his random thoughts, Harry turned back to his poem.

"_But we loved with a love that was more then love…"_

Hearing a sudden shout of surprise from Bill, Harry looked up once more. The protection ward had darkened from a pale lilac to a deep violet, indicating that Bill had made an error somewhere in his ward-breaking. Smiling as the words of the poem echoed in his head as he watched the man he loved with all his being, Harry started to read his poem again.

"_And this was the reason that, long ago_

_In this kingdom by the sea_

_A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling_

_My beautiful…"_

Frowning slightly at the morose tone the poem had taken, Harry's brow wrinkled in thought. He shouldn't be surprised at the despondent mood of the poem considering the author, but something was off. Weren't love stories supposed to be happy?

Leaning back on his hands, Harry caught a glimpse of Bill as he tied back his long hair for it was

_**falling in curtains over his shoulders, cascading around him in crimson waves.**_

Harry felt his face grow warm once more. What was wrong with him? Trying to distract himself from his own very pleasing thoughts, he turned back to the poetry that was lying on the ground beside him.

"_But our love it was stronger by far then the love_

_Of those who were older then we-_

_Of many far wiser than we-"_

"Harry? Is something wrong, love?

Raising his head at his boyfriend's question, Harry looked into Bill's eyes

_**which were darkened with lust, azure rapidly fading to black…**_

Blood rushing across his face for a third time, Harry quickly turned his gaze away. He caught sight of the half-standing ward which appeared to be… glowing?

"Everything is…"

"_And neither the angels…"_

… _**as he loped forwards…**_

"…just fine, Bill. It's just…"

"…_in Heaven above_

_Nor the demons down…"_

…_**pinning him to the bed and…**_

"…that I'm feeling a little…"

"…_under the sea_

_Can ever…"_

…_**captured his mouth with his own, connecting them…**_

"… tired, and I think I need to go…"

"… _dissever my soul from the soul…"_

…_**emotionally, physically, mentally, in every single way.**_

"… now. Love you."

Quickly rushing out of the amphitheater and not heading the alarmed cries from Bill, Harry passed through the entrance of the ruins, never noticing the pair of glowing, mischievous eyes that watched over him.

"_**Heehee, I always love messing with this kid!"**_

"… _of the beautiful Annabel Lee."

* * *

_

This drabble was a mix of me needing to memorize a poem for an English class (I chose the poem _Annabel Lee_ by Edgar Allen Poe) and a promise to Shinigami that I would write a Bill/Harry drabble next. So, I hope you liked it Shinigami!

I'm still taking 4 requests for drabble pairings, so if you want one leave your suggestion in a review or PM me with it. And remember, I love reviews if it is criticism or not (useless flames for stupid reasons will be mocked and laughed at, although I don't think I would get a review from my lovely readers, right?).

Wishing you all good fortune,

Ariaeris


	8. Glint

I am so sorry that it has been so long since I have updated, but school has absorbed all of my free time in the world. Also, my internet connecting has been acting up again recently, so I have been internet deprived for almost two days now with various patches of interference popping up all over the place. So again, I'm very sorry.

On the good side though, all the free time has given me the chance to write an enormous amount of drabbles, so updates will be coming much more frequently. So yay for that!

To commemorate my extreme sadness over my crappy internet connection though, I wrote an angsty drabble. Poor Harry.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

There were so many barriers separating them, some stronger than others, but all just as damning

There were so many barriers separating them, some stronger than others, but all just as damning. To think…Harry Potter and Viktor Krum together? What a laugh, what a joke! Even he had known from the very beginning that any endeavors to become anything more than an acquaintance, and even that being a stretch, to the Bulgarian was almost certainly doomed to failure.

There was so much hope in his heart though, hope that he knew would just harm him in the end. It always did. Any attempt at showing love, any attempt at gaining love; it had been quickly taught to him that love…was just something he would never have. Sometimes, in his darker moments which occurred so often these days, he wonders if the Dursleys were right and someone like him just doesn't deserve love. After all, nothing has been shown to him to refute that fact.

So why would Viktor ever think about loving him? He wouldn't. Harry was just unlovable. So why, why did he keep hoping, fooling himself into believing that the glint in the Bulgarian Seeker's eyes when he looked at him was not just a trick of the light? Why did he keep hoping that it was not Hermione that kept Viktor near his little group of friends, but him? Foolishness, utter foolishness. It does say that love makes a man a fool though and no better example of that adage then he himself.

A wry grin spread across Harry's face, a mockery of a true smile. Even if he was loveable, why would Viktor want him of all people? The most famous seeker of modern days loving a pathetic little child whose only claim to fame was something he couldn't ever remember, let alone replicate? Again, foolishness.

There was still that damnable little hope though; the incessant, creeping notion that his little crush was developing into something so much deeper; so much scarier. And it did. It scared him. He had, against all logic and instinct, the two things that have allowed him to survive for as long as he has, gathered the shattered fragments of his heart and was ready to present it to a man he had never even held a conversation with. It was impossible!

No. It was improbable, for it had happened. No matter how he may deny it, his heart, broken and brittle as it was, belonged solely to a man who was the equivalent of a stranger. How dangerous the matters of the heart.

And still, confronted with all the logic in the world and all the reasoning he could think of, his heart still held onto that hope, the hope that could only bring him sorrow. Was it worth the pain, knowing that he could love? Maybe it was, yet the pain was still unbearable. His heart, with all its crooked edges and cracked surfaces, beat solely for one Viktor Krum.

The line between love and hate is also said to be thin and again he has experience with this, hating Viktor for hurting him, but loving him for allowing him to love. It's complicated, so for now he will clear his mind, stare at his obsession, and hope once more that the glint in Viktor's gaze is not just a trick of the light.

* * *

Once again, I am extremely sorry that it has taken so long for me to post another drabble, but I hope anyone who is still reading this forgives me. Anyways, if I have this fanfiction system finally worked out, then there should be a poll on my profile relating to this drabble. So check it out! Also don't forget to leave a review if you want to, because I am still accepting two more drabble suggestions of an kind of pairing (and it doesn't have to have Harry in it!) from anyone, even previous suggestors, for my 'Thank You' drabble series.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the drabble and a new one will hopefully be up soon.

Ciao,

Ariaeris


	9. Dancer

Thank you very much PoI and Mariel, your reviews always make me feel so warm and fuzzy on the inside! And thank you to all of the wonderful people who are reading this story. Even just a tally on my chapter count thing makes me happy!

Anyways, I don't particularly like this drabble for some reason. People who have read it say that it is good, but something just seems... off to me. Maybe it will resonate with other readers though! I just don't think I did the pairing justice.

Anyways, it's Blaise/Harry which should be fairly obvious by the time the third paragraph ends. No hiding the pairing until the end this time! Well, not exactly.

So, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

It all started as a dance. A simple game made for his amusement. A way to rid himself of his ever present boredom and at the same time earn himself a pleasurable profit.

He was acting quite a bit like his mother when he first began to plan his little dance. First he staked out his dance partner. Out of all the possible people he could have chosen, he had chosen _him _to be his dance partner. There were plenty of other people who may have been a better choice of a partner but, for lack of a better term, his heart had been set on his choice.

He had been qualified, but he had most certainly not been at the top of the list of his choices. Things that he looked for in his dancers, things that his mother covets and have worn off onto him over time, may have been present in his choice, but there were so many other people who had so much more then him.

His dancer was not lacking of money, unlike those dirt poor redheads he hung around with. The Potters were an old family, not as old as say, the Malfoys, but still old enough to have amassed quite a fortune. Mother was quite pleased with that.

Nor was he lacking in the looks department. Dark hair had been grown out, taming it slightly while still keeping its distinctive appearance, clashed wonderfully with pale skin and deep red lips. A slender body, a confidant gait, and those entrancing emerald eyes. Who could doubt that Harry was a good looking man? He couldn't, although that fact was kept mostly private.

He could not find a flaw in Harry's intelligence as well. With a quick mind, a sharp wit, and a ready, sarcastic comment for everything, Harry could hold the most wonderful conversations. Hours upon hours were spent between the two, debating and discussing and growing closer with each word. Nowadays, they were so close that one could complete the other's sentences, understanding the other to a degree that sometimes frightened him. He had never allowed someone to get this close to him before.

He just couldn't find a flaw in him! They melded so well together that anything he may have possibly found disagreeable with the other was so microscopic that it hardly even mattered.

He was getting lost in his own dance, the rhythm he had set in the beginning long lost. With sweeping maneuvers, dips and twirls and all sorts of techniques, his heart was stolen from him, bit by tiny bit. Perhaps it was never his heart to begin with, for it had been held by his ebony haired tempter for as long as he could remember.

He was lost and their dance was beyond his control. Predictability, when once expected, was now something he scoffed at. His pulse raced with each beat, his mind swept along with each chord. It was enthralling.

His little game had become addicting, but if Blaise knew but a single thing, it was that he would make sure that their dance never ended.

* * *

Only one pairing left and then all of Harry's Mr. Rights are revealed. Who do you think it will be? Remember, I love the small, rarer pairings and I tend to shy away from the biggest pairing in fandoms. So leave me a review and guess on who it will be!

Also, I'm still taking two more pairing requests for any two to four people of any kind of pairing (yaoi, yuri, het) in the Harry Potter fandom. Regardless, the first pairing, Draco/Hermione (requested by xXxfallingxXxdownxXx, who apparently changed her penname recently), will be posted after the tenth drabble is up.

Also also remember that I have a poll on my profile concerning the next Viktor/Harry drabble. Their happiness (or lack thereof) depends on your votes! Voting will be ending soon, so cast your votes now!

Man, that sounded like a cheesy election commercial.

Also, anyone who wants to PM me or leave a review suggesting a name for each chapter before this one is more then welcome to do so. It would really be appreciated, because I want to see what readers think the most intrinsic value of each drabble is.

Now, it's good-bye though, so I hoped you enjoyed the drabble and I will see you all soon!

Ariaeris


	10. Revelation

Here we go, the last drabble of the first set! 10 out of 40! I a quarter of the way to the end! Yay me!

I promise it won't be another 3 months or so to get the next ten drabbles out.

Anyways, this drabble should reveal the final candidate for Harry's Mr. Right, and by know you should all know that I am extremely fond of the lesser known, aka Crack, pairings in the Harry Potter fandom. So, who do you think it will be?

Well, your going to have to read to find out!

Also, before we begin, I would like to thank both Mariel Nightstalker (cuddle) and my anonymous reviewer for reviewing! Love you both. Also, for everyone who reviewed in the silence of their hearts, you get a cookie too. Good for you.

On a side note, Anonymous, thank you for doing my poll, it's being sorely neglected.

Hope you all enjoy!

* * *

It was a certain sense of incredulity that possessed Harry as he turned to look at his surroundings. Everything was… odd. Very odd. The means by which he had arrived was dubious at best as well. One second he had been walking to the Great Hall, muttering over what a bastard Snape was, and the next he was in a grassy clearing, with Hogwarts nowhere in sight!

Sighing he pulled out his wand, readying the charm that would help him locate his errant school.

"Point me, Hogwarts."

Twenty seconds later he was slightly burned, twitching, and wandless. Either he had just broken reality, which was unlikely due to the fact that he still existed, or he was in serious trouble.

The only reason why a "Point me" charm would not work is if the object being located did not exist. Even a building as heavily warded as Hogwarts would have let off a slight magical signature, which he would have been able to track back to his home. So he was in the past. Or an alternate dimension.

Yeah, he was screwed.

Casting a wary glance around the empty meadow he was standing in, Harry took a step forward, determined to find where the hell he was. And when. That was important too. No sooner had he taken his first step that a shattering sound came from where his foot had touched down. Crap, he _had_ broken reality!

A minute later, Harry finally managed to gain the courage to peer out of the shaking ball of flesh that he had become in the face of destroying the universe, Grand Design, Halla, and all those other things that would be _really _bad if they were destroyed which, knowing his luck, he had probably obliterated. After he realized that the sky had not fallen and the terra firma had remained firma, Harry crawled over to what he had broken when he had stepped on it.

It looked like a… miniature piece of stained glass? He had been to a church a scant few times in his life, and most of those times had been for attempted exorcisms arranged between his idiot relatives and easily duped clergymen. This piece of glass seemed like a smaller piece of a large pane, with it being the size of a small hand mirror. He realized with some exasperation that, on closer examination, it appeared to be of mostly decorative value with no other use being apparent.

Peering at it, thank Merlin his glasses had survive whatever had happened to him, he managed to find some words written on the glass in what seemed to be Latin. Thanking Merlin once more, this time for most incantations being in Latin and giving him a fairly good understanding of the language over the years, he began to translate the text.

"...Third time is... damn it."

Scratch that, his Latin was as bad as his eyesight.

"Damn once more."

And with that understandable sentiment Harry stood up, placing the decoration in his pocket, and left the glade. He needed to find someone to help him and he had a feeling that his life had become quite a bit more interesting. He wondered if that was a good thing or not. Probably not.

* * *

Mwahaha, I'm evil! You don't know who Harry's final candidate is! MWAHAHA!

In any one even cares, that is.

Anyone who wants to know who he shall be, you can either wait until the next chapter that I swear will reveal who he will be, or you can review and I will tell you in response. I am also still accepting two suggestions for any kind of pairing in the Harry Potter fandom that I will write for you. Also, because I have finished the first set, I will begin posting those requests soon.

Well, sorry if anyone hates me for the un-reveal, but I needed this chapter to set up the following one. It wouldn't make sense without this prelude.

Also, for Anonymous who expected a pairing out of left field, you have _never_ been more correct.

Smiling Evilly,

Ariaeris


	11. Stepping Forth

So, how many people did I anger last chapter? How many sparks of curiosity did I alight? Well no more my readers, this chapter will tell you who Harry's final possible Mr. Right is!

You must all be so excited.

Thank you Mariel Nightstalker and Pandora of Ithilien for reviewing this chapter and for Shinigami's Shadowfor reviewing chapter seven. I would also like to thank Natalie2202 for adding me to his/her story alerts. Also, thank you everyone who read the last chapter and a big thank you for everyone who has taken the time to read this story. It means a lot to me.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Evanescence, no matter how much I try to fool myself.

Enjoy.

* * *

His dream was just beginning

Their dream was just beginning.

Wasn't there a famous Chinese philosopher who once said that 'a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step' or something like that? Well, that guy knew what he was talking about.

In all actuality, their journey had begun when he had met the copper-haired man before him a little over five years ago. Two months after he had left the meadow he had arrived in, two months since he had left the only home he had ever known, he met the man who would change his entire life in ways that he could never had imagined.

He was still a child back then, and his companion was the same. In many ways they still were, despite the fact that they were both in their early twenties. Harry would deny any sense of immaturity that others could possibly find in him, despite the fact that the simplest of things could enthrall him and that a child's innocence was something he coveted and desired more than anything else at times.

_Where has my heart gone?_

_An uneven trade for the real world._

_Oh why, I want to go back to,_

_Believing in everything_

_And knowing nothing at all._

His companion on the other hand was as bouncy as a child in a candy store and just as curious, with an endless drive to discover the unknown. His opposite. At other times though, he could be serious, stern, lethal, a natural predator. His synonym. And sometimes the two were so in sync, so alike, that the other's mind was the equivalent of an open book, something that had nothing to do with legilmency. Neither of them had tried to shield their minds from the other, and they never would. Their bond was too strong, their trust too deep.

Two others shared their dream. Two strong, proud women stood beside them as they attempted to change the world. Two intelligent, loving, trustworthy, fearless, and determined women whose lives intertwined with their own to the point where all four of them were one and nothing was kept between them.

He had finally reached an understanding of the pane of glass he had found when he had first arrived in this time: this was his second chance; his third life. He had lived, then died, and lived once more and now he was back at the beginning of his journey. They all were still at the beginning of their journey.

None of them were perfect, each with their own individual flaws. He was cold and ruthless but loving while the other man was brave and fiery, but insecure. She was intelligent and wise but jaded, and she was caring and kind, but doubting. They were all once broken. They were now healing. Healing together.

The other man had just set the first stone. How long… how long had it taken just to place that first stone? Too long. It had cost tears, blood, time, and money that they couldn't spare just to take the very first step. They couldn't stop though, not when their dream was so close. Not when they had already given so much just for this. Not when Harry could almost envision Hogwarts before him, not the barren land that a single stone resided on.

It may have been a single stone, but it was the beginning. A step, a single step. A step towards their dream.

And after all, it only took a single step to begin a journey.

* * *

Congratulations to Mariel and PoI, you got it.

Godric/Harry.

Lovely in it's rarity, isn't it?

Anyways, please review for not only do I adore each and every review, but I still have one more pairing up for grabs and it is still any ones to take.

Also, I'm sorry if anyone thinks the song lyrics are out of place, I was listening to the sone when I got the inspiration for this and I just felt that it was appropriate for the somber mood at the beginning.

In any case, after this comes the full roster over again, so look forward to (this is an excuse to display the entire list of pairings) more:

Lucius/Harry  
Kingsley/Harry  
Oliver/Harry  
Blaise/Harry  
Cedric/Harry  
Sirius/Harry  
Remus/Harry  
Godric/Harry  
Bill/Harry and  
Viktor/Harry

See you all next time,

Ariaeris


	12. Chiaroscuro

Well, I'm back again with the whole cycle of men. Who will it be this time? You'll need to read to find out!

Anyways, I was feeling a little upset when I was writing this, a bad day and all, so I decided, 'why not write something totally crazy?' So I did.

If this doesn't make sense, I will take no blame for it. If you get the basic idea of the story, then you will understand that it is supposed to make little sense.

In any case, I would like to thank Mariel Nightstalker for both the review and the recommendation she put for my story in hers (for everyone who doesn't know it, it is called 'Of Sugar and Sulphur.' Read it!). Also, thank you to Pandora of Ithilien and Emalilyy - Aand - Lucyy - for reviewing as well. On a separate note, Emalilyy was also the one who asked for the final pairing to be written, so I will start posting the asked for drabbles soon. Thank you to everyone who has asked.

Enjoy

* * *

It was dark outside the glass pane separating him from the world behind the walls that kept him in his exile. His world had shrunken to the size of a beach cottage near a pier that could never be visited. Everything else, if there still was an else, lay behind the white-washed walls, now dull argent due to the lack of light, which separated his self from the consciousness of the world.

Locked in his mind, eternally wondering and wandering through the mind kept before the argent walls. His own? No, those argent walls were not his fortress but the world's, a fortress that rejected him. Rejected the rejects, the rejectable rejections. His goal lay not behind those ivory walls. No his goal lay in the world that the white denizens could never reach, locked behind the argent walls as they were.

Pondering, and pondering over his ponderings, he wondered over his wanderings. He needed someone, that one that was his someone. The one someone who was his one, not someone else's someone. His one.

He's not here though; the white denizens behind the argent walls, with their ivory uniforms, are holding him captive. They say that he will not, can not, come back anymore. That's why they locked him out of the silver world with its pearl gates and argent walls.

He hears them sometimes, those white denizens, when they come to visit him. Heal him they say. They're crazy. He only needs his someone, his Raven, not some soldier from the silver world. His Raven, black feathered and emerald eyed, beautiful beyond compare, make the denizens of the white world look like mockeries of human beings. He needs his Raven, not these doves, mocking him with their 'purity.'

By he hears them, these mockingbirds in dove's disguise. He hears them ponder as he ponders over his ponderings and his wanderings and he sees their pity filled words as much as hears those jarring lines. They blame his family for why he was rejected from the silver world. The Black family did not belong in the White world, their souls corrupted from birth all the way back to the brother and sister who started the whole trend generations ago.

Imbalanced they say, a combination of trauma and breeding. He was rejected because he was sad? Many people were sad though, especially because they do not have a Raven like he does. They have to deal with pigeons and crows, but he had the beautiful Raven. Many were jealous. A few were crazy, just like the doves hovering overhead with their pristine uniforms. They hurt his Raven and he was rejected by the silver world. He had hurt them back.

Those dirty silver doves would soon be back to take him to a new place. With a wave of their wands the beautiful little beach house, marred only be its argent walls and crystal beaches, would disappear, giving him a glimpse of the pearl gates of the white world. It didn't matter though, all he needed was his Raven. For the world outside the argent walls, no matter how much it was changed by those insane doves, was colorless for the Black without his somebody.

* * *

That was Sirius for anyone who didn't get it.

The purpose for this drabble: An insane Sirius is always fun, but an insane Sirius who became insane for something other then Azkaban is even more fun.

Yay for funsanity!

Please review my loves!

Ariaeris


	13. Dawning Smile

Hello everyone!

Here it is: the long awaited Viktor/Harry chapter. Will Harry get a happy ending, or will all his dreams be for naught? Read and find out!

Also I have a super small request for everyone so please read below.

**ATTENTION!** It is my birthday today (go me!) so as a birthday present I would like to ask that anyone who possibly can leave a review, will you please do so. Although I love each and every one of my reviewers with all my heart and soul, it would mean a lot to me if everyone could just take ten seconds to even just write me a 'Happy Birthday!' or a comment on that vein.

Anyways, a thank you to all who will send me a review as a birthday gift and another thank you to everyone who might wish to drop me a review. Also, thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter! So, thanks!

Enjoy!

* * *

He was sitting by the Great Lake, his head bent, raven hair spilling into green eyes glistening with poorly hidden tears and red trails marring pale cheeks. His shoulders were shaking slightly, sobs muffled slightly by the dark robes he wore in mourning for his fallen Headmaster. Questions and wails only now being released in the relative peace of isolation, no longer shielded by the poorly crafted mask he had worn during the funeral so as not to upset the others any further.

It was heart wrenching.

Viktor stepped forward from where he was observing the younger seeker, his formal robes brushing slightly on the dew dampened grass as he went to comfort his friend. Harry's tears, Harry's sadness was his own. He could empathize with the younger brunette; loosing such a pivotal figure in your life as your Headmaster, the one who had guided and taught you for years, can be shocking, a cruel reminder of mortality in the immortal minds of youth. It had hurt in the beginning, and even now Viktor's hearts still ached for the man that used to be a constant in his life.

He could empathize with Harry, so he could help him. That thought cut through the sadness and the weariness his memories had brought him and selfishly filled him with delight. Although he would never wish unhappiness on another, not without a just cause at the least, the fact that he could finally be the one who held and comforted the boy – no, young man – that had taken his heart filled him with no small amount of joy.

When he finally reached the side of the younger man, he caught sight of Harry's reflection in the clear waters of the lake. It was even worse looking up close, and seeing Harry's tear-stained face sent another stab of pain directly to his heart. Looking forward across the lake he saw that the party being held in Dumbledore's honor was still in full swing, the people merely black pinpricks even to his superior vision. At this distance no one would be able to see them.

"What do you want?"

Victor jumped slightly, startled at Harry's quiet question.

"May I… sit here?" Viktor asked, for once, hesitantly.

Harry stared at him with red rimmed eyes before humming almost inaudibly and shifting slightly from where he sat on the damp grass. Seeing the younger man's silent affirmation, Viktor lowered himself to sit beside Harry, not caring about the expensive robes he was ruining.

"You didn't answer me." Harry whispered after a moment of silence. "About why you are here." Harry continued, seeing Viktor's confused look.

"You needed to be comforted,' Viktor replied before being cut off by the half-hearted grow that Harry emitted. "You did," he continued. "It hurts when you lose someone close."

"Shouldn't I be used to the pain then?" questioned Harry, half-wryly, half-mockingly.

Viktor titled his head to look up at the cloudy sky before answering.

"Perhaps."

"Most people say that you never get used to the pain." Harry sad absently, his mind wandering over past memories.

"Yes, but most people do not experience as much suffering as you do." Viktor said, still looking at the overcast sky.

"And you?" asked Harry, something shining in the depth of his eyes.

"I… have never experienced as much loss as you have. I may never. I do not know. I have lost a Headmaster though. I can help you with this."

"What about all the other pain?" muttered Harry despondently.

Viktor turned to look at Harry, his eyes glinting, causing Harry's cheeks to darken slightly.

"For that… I will try to help as well."

Harry smiled.

The clouds broke.

* * *

Aren't possible happy endings wonderful?

Anyways, like I asked above, please send me a review as a birthday present. Although I will not be cruel and say something like I won't update if I don't get a certain number of reviews, it will still mean the world to me to get some birthday presents from the readers.

On a separate note, I'm sorry Viktor accent was not written. It was far too confusing for my addled mind.

Loving each and every one of you,

Ariaeris (who is now a year older!)


	14. Steady Descent

Good morning/afternoon/evening everyone! I'm back and a whole year older. Yay for me!

I would like to thank everyone who wished me a happy birthday in a review, which means thank you Shinigami, Mariel, Emalilyy Aand Lucyy, and Natalie2202. Thanks much guys!

Anyways, Viktor/Harry won the happy majority obviously in my last poll, so a new poll has been placed up and some people have already voted. If you know anything about Naruto, go check it out.

Well, here is the latest Lucius/Harry drabble, just for you guys.

Enjoy.

* * *

It had come as a surprise if he was willing to tell the truth. The truth was not often spoken from him though, so he would often exclaim of the predictability of his lover's actions. How he could see the flickering emotions from miles away, whether those emotions were shining from behind emerald eyes or emanating from the actions bestowed upon him from his love. It was obvious, Lucius would say later on, how a simple crush had evolved into the mind-spinning, heart-clenching love it now was.

For awhile the women would swoon and the men would congratulate him on ensnaring the heart of the world's undisputed most desirable bachelor. The romance and near-tragedy of their relationship, played up to its fullest by none other then himself, captured the hearts of romantics everywhere.

"If these two lovers could find each other, then what is stopping us from finding our true love?" they would exclaim, twittering and gossiping and envying themselves a green almost comparable to Harry's eyes. "They have faced obstacles and torment to express their love! What could be more wonderful?"

Perhaps their mouths sewn shut.

They just didn't see how their words affected Harry. They chose not to see. And for awhile he was just as blind. Couldn't see the way how Harry's eyes dimmed daily, how his movements became dull and rigid. Routine; lacking the usual passion and life that was infused in his soul and was purely Harry. How he became the perfect husband for the most perfect relationship in the whole damn perfect world. Just like how they were thought to be. Just like how he had made their relationship out to be. Just like how he thought he needed to be in order to not disappoint him.

It had taken the near death, metaphorical at least, of the one he loved to bring Lucius back to reality. The world wasn't perfect, their relationship was beyond failure, and Harry was quickly becoming little more then a mockery of a human being. Where once warmth was, there was was now frigid ice. Where once was a sharp wit, there was now manners, rules, and etiquette. Where once was a lyrical voice that could both soothe and arouse him, there was now a dull, monotonous tone. Where once Harry Potter was, was now just Mr. Malfoy, the perfect trophy husband.

It still horrified him how blind he had been.

It had taken Harry awhile to recover from his near death. In fact, he was still recovering. Many times Lucius had not woken up to see the green eyes adorned with love that he had come to cherish, but the sight of Mr. Malfoy dressing, doing his hair, putting on his masks to show the world just how perfectly perfect everything was.

Falling further and further away from him.

Lucius kissed him good morning regardless. Some days he kissed pink, pliant, slightly-chapped lips; other days he kissed crimson, stiff, painted ones. A few days he can almost imagine that he hears cries of help coming from those lips. Quite a few days he doesn't have to imagine thinly-veiled words laced with hatred echoing forth from Harry's cold, cruel mouth.

He still kisses those lips. He still tells of their relationship with a pride that has now been replaced with fear. He still loves Harry with all of his heart.

Maybe one of these days the real Harry will kiss back.

* * *

Aww, angst. Can I ever make a happy drabble for this pairing? I'll have to try...

Anyways, would anyone mind if I put the drabbles that were requested into this story? I would mark each chapter as the requested drabble, or interlude, but it would just be incredibly easier for me and the reader, I believe. Anyone want to give me their opinions on the subject?

In any case, reviews are always welcome, but just reading my story is wonderful enough for me. So read! Review! Enjoy!

Love much,

Ariaeris


	15. First Crush

Wow, I'm sorry it has been so long since my last update! I do have a few reasons though, so please listen to them before ripping me in half and squirting lemon juice in my torn veins. Please?

Okay, first is school. It is finally ending soon so I have so much more free time now. Before now though, I have had to literally study until I fall asleep sitting up, so I haven't exactly had the most free time on my hands.

Secondly, in the little free time that I did have I found the closest thing I will ever find to a real-life horcrux: The Phoenix Wright Kink Meme. Anyone who is interested in the series (or even if your not) and has been on it will agree with me; it takes a piece of your soul and never releases it! So I have spent the last two weeks of my free time scouring the site, laughing my ass off, and drooling over the wonderful lemons. It rules my life now. I'm not terribly upset over that fact.

In any case, I am back now, and whether that's a good thing or not is up to you to decide.

While you're deciding though, here is a cute, fluffy Oliver/Harry drabble ready and waiting to warm the cockles of your hearts and cause you to 'awww' at the first crush-ness of it all.

Enjoy!

* * *

Harry lay on his bed, his stomach stretched across the mattress, kicking his feet in the air as he hummed an off-key tune. The sun was shining brightly through the window of his bedroom and if one would glance out of it, they would see the well groomed lawn and garden of Number 4, Privet Drive; the fruit of Harry's summer toils. The grass was a healthy verdant hue, a lively contrast to the seared and withered landscapes of the surrounding dwellings brought upon by the arid, early July weather, and small flowers dotted the patch that led from door to driveway.

The source of Harry's inharmonious humming though, was the rolls of parchment spread before him on his bed; a group of letters sent from his various friends and acquaintances as a sort of early birthday present. They were a welcome reprieve from the dull and monotonous tasks that he was assigned daily and the omnipresent ennui that tempted him to just shove the world and all of its troubles away and retreat into his mind, chasing dreams instead of reality, at least until that long sought after September day arrived.

He didn't though, he chose to live in the present and look towards the future, in no small part due to the friends he had collected. What does it say about a friendship if a friend would send you a letter exactly when you needed it because they knew exactly when you needed it most? Harry wasn't sure, but he could tell that it was not as common as he hoped. As such, he treated all of his friends as a blessed gift, his precious people, and he treasured them dearly.

He had already read the letters from his two closest friends, laughing slightly at the small jokes and smiling softly at the not-so-carefully-concealed concerned words and questions, enquiring about his well being and reassuring them of their love. He may have cried a bit then, but he wasn't exactly sure.

Then came the other letters. One was from Sirius, who he held closest to his heart for fear of losing his only family left. Another was from Remus, who was one of his only links to the past and someone he considered a dear friend as well. And others. Many others, all concerned, and caring, and loving, and having a portion of their hearts set aside just for Harry.

He _had_ cried when he realized that.

His fingers trailed over the dry but soft parchment, remembering the warm words written there. His heart soared in remembrance, his mind wandering over the early morning that had just passed with him reading the letters; his heart rising with the sun. Warmth. Love.

His fingers caught on one letter in particular. He glanced down quickly, smiling once he realized who the author was. Oliver. Off the field, and away from the hastily drawn and often crude Quidditch formations he was fond of, Oliver's penmanship was actually quite neat and his style of writing was captivating; relaxed and companionable, yet at the same time inquisitive, subconsciously telling the reader that he was interested in whatever that person might say.

The contents of the letter were not that different from the other letters, it had a greeting, some questions, a few added Quidditch references for no letter from Oliver would be complete without them, and a farewell. Something about the letter though caused his heart to shake and pause. Hell, everything about Oliver caused his heart to shake and pause and, for lack of a better term, flutter.

Laughing to himself in the silent, sunny room, Harry rolled over onto his back and covered his face with a pillow, muffling his laughter in the cushion. He could be such a girl sometimes!

* * *

Once again, I'm sorry that anyone who is still here had to wait for this chapter. I do have a nice fluffy Cedric/Harry planned though, and it **will** be up tomorrow. I promise.

Gotta love you guys!

Ariaeris

Ps: Thank you to all who have reviewed, review, and/or will review in the future my story!

Also, thanks to Shinigami-kun, look out for my new Squall/Harry fic coming out soon! I hope you all will like it!


	16. Interrupted Preparations

Hmm, I promised that this would be up almost two weeks ago. So what have we learned class?

Never trust Ariaeris about anything.

Sorry!

In any case, thank you to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter and thank you to everyone who has been with me so far.

Enjoy!

* * *

It was a fairly warm afternoon considering that the end of the year was drawing closer and closer with each progressively shorter day and that the cold coming Winter was just around the corner. Despite the October heat surge, Harry was currently ensconced in the library, pouring over archaic tomes and mysterious forms of lore, otherwise known as paperback books, trying to increase his chances of success in the coming times. With his luck and the situations he found himself in, and the fact that Halloween was coming up and nothing good happened to him on that day, his chances of any form of success were probably pretty low.

Sighing slightly, Harry moved back towards the numerous shelves that contained, somewhere, the knowledge he sought. Perusing various books and scrolls (and was that papyrus he spied?) he was caught by surprise when a hand came down suddenly on his shoulder.

"Ah!" he cried reflexively as he spun around, wondering who had snuck up on him.

"Hah ha," chuckled the figure behind him, his grey eyes glimmering and a smile on his face. "Catch you by surprise?"

"Yes, very much so," Harry bit out, letting loose another sigh, this time out of relief instead of boredom. "Is there any reason you snuck up on me though? You could have given me a heart attack." He mocked jokingly.

"Ah hah, maybe. Maybe not. It certainly would have cut down on my competition though, no?" Cedric chuckled, his grin growing at his own joke.

"Very funny, Cedric. Absolutely hilarious." Muttered Harry despondently.

"Hm? What's wrong?" Cedric questioned, concerned. "What are you looking at anyways?"

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed, shifting away from the curious gaze directed at the book in his hand. "No looking! I want to win this competition just as bad as you do, so no, before you ask, I'm not sharing my secrets with you."

"You break my heart with your lack of trust, Harry." Cedric replied sarcastically. "Anyways," he continued seeing Harry's indignant look, "Why are you preparing now? That event isn't for awhile."

"You – you looked! I told you not to and you did anyways!" Harry spluttered.

"Sorry. Couldn't help it." Cedric grinned unrepentantly.

"Whatever." Harry huffed.

"Hmm… you're angry with me now, aren't you?"

"No shit, Sherlock. Muggle phrase." Harry explained, seeing Cedric's raised eyebrow.

"I know that Harry." Cedric replied good-naturedly. "I was just wondering where you got that mouth of yours."

"They were on sale in Hogsmeade." Harry grunted out, thoroughly annoyed at the situation.

"Really?" Cedric murmured. "Then perhaps we should go do some shopping there ourselves. After all, they seem to have such wonderful wares on sale."

"The next Hogsmeade trip isn't for two weeks Cedric."

"I know. Let's go now."

"What!" Harry exclaimed. "We can't do that. Not without breaking a few rules of course, I mean."

"Head boy privileges." Cedric sang cheerfully.

"Of course," chuckled Harry. "Head boy, Genius, Triwizard Tournament Contender, and all around Pretty Boy Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory. How could I forget? Your title is as long as mine!"

"Longer," Cedric replied offhandedly. "So let's go. No more making plans for the Quidditch cup, Harry. You can study Quidditch anytime, but right now there is a wonderfully warm autumn afternoon begging us to frolic in its warmth. You're tempted, aren't you?"

"Fine, fine, you've convinced me. Happy?" Harry asked, a grin growing on his face as well. "I'll go with you, but shouldn't you be studying for your NEWTs?"

"Studying for some tests that won't be occurring for a few months versus having an enjoyable trip with my boyfriend. Whatever will I choose?"

"Let's go, Ced." Harry answered, a grin firmly etched upon his face.

Damn annoying, loveable Hufflepuffs not letting him be upset.

* * *

As always, reviews are an acceptable transfer for my undying love and devotion, so please review! I mean, how long does it take to write a simple 'Well done,' or a 'Good job?' Or even a "You're story makes kittens cry tears of blood!"

Hopefully any reviews will not contain the last example.

Following chapters will be up sooner than the previous ones due to the fact that school is finally over (for me at least) and I will be able to update/write/sleep more. So the Interludes I promised will eventually be up, as well as the next drabble, which may or may not be a Kingsley/Harry featuring an insane, megalomaniacal Harry.

Sounds interesting, no?

Ariaeris


	17. Meanings Within Meanings

Ariaeris would like to say that he is very sorry on behalf of his idiotic computer who managed to pull off the wonderful stunt of losing my very precious internet connection almost twenty minutes after I posted the previous drabble. And then not giving me it back until the very eve of my Grand-Uncle's death. Then taking it away again.

Bastard computer.

Then, I just recently got it back and was talking to my most wonderful friend ever, Abby, who was the one that finally inspired me to write this drabble (so thank her on the way out). Everything was set for the grand unveiling of a new chapter... two days ago.

But then I lost my internet connection again.

Why, I say WHY!?

But I'm back now, and here is the newest drabble, hot off the presses and ready for your reading enjoyment. It's Kingsley/Harry just as I promised, just lacking the megalomanical-ness that I think I may have promised.

On a seperate note, thank you all reviewers, readers, and all my believers; I'm doing this for you guys!

Enjoy!

* * *

The black leather of his chair gave way to his weight as he settled himself next to his companion who was deeply ensorcelled in whatever he was reading. Kingsley had offered to help him earlier with the cleaning of the Black Library of any books that could be related to dark magic, a project which they were still working on nearly a half-year later due mainly to the fact that every book needed to be handeled and read with care.

Candles were the only source of light for the duo, dark purple draperies concealing dusty windows _(that led to nowhere)_. Shadows lay outside their sight, but a single candle resting on a desk between the two gifted them with sufficient light for reading.

Cracking open the manuscript he had just taken from a shelf far into the library, near the walls opposite them _(that had seemed so imposing that September day when they first began)_, his eyes crossed at the Greek characters that greeted him. Normally he would not have been stalled by a linguistic obstacle such as this, he had known coming into this endeavor that his knowledge of various languages would be tested by the practically antediluvian tomes, so he had wisely invested in some translation charms in order to augment his, admittedly, impressive grasp on said languages, but he and his partner had been working for almost five hours sans rest and he had no wish to start translating some ancient text at this time.

Rolling his neck, and groaning softly at the resulting crack, he turned to face his companion, who was currently reading, from what he could see, looked to be an old Italian or French book. Crossing his arms on the arm of his chair, and resting his head in the crook of his arms, he waited for the older man to notice him.

Sure enough, it was not a minute later when Kingsley's eyes wandered from the book resting on his lap to take a fleeting look at Harry _(as they had every few minutes for the past few weeks)_. Dark eyes residing behind dignified reading glasses widened slightly at the sight of the younger man gazing curiously at him. A smile graced the elder's lips as he too turned to fully face his companion, a single finger marking his page as he shut his book, so that his focus was solely _(forever, only)_ on Harry. Harry took the unspoken cue to ask his question.

"What are you reading, Kingsley?"

Kingsley glanced at the cover of his book as if he didn't know what he had been reading for the past hour, and to tell the truth, after a month or so of their constant inspections everything that did not concern dark magic nor held a connection to it had become meaningless to a pair. Harry silently mourned the passing of his interest in literature _(a passing of an age)_; he could have been reading the greatest works ever written without knowing it! He took a quick look at his own book, which was apparently a version of the 'Anabasis.'

A deep chuckle interrupted his musings and he looked once more at his partner. Kingsley looked amused for a moment before he looked at Harry; dark eyes glittering warmly _(weren't they always?)_.

"'Histoire de Juliette'"

Harry snorted, just as amused as Kingsley. "Another muggle novel? Quite hypocritical of the Black, no?"

"Perhaps they felt a sense of kinsmanship with the author. Must have seen some similarities." Kingsley replied, his smile turning into a smirk as he stretched his tired muscles.

Harry chuckled slightly at the joke, his shoulders shaking with mirth. Comparing the Blacks to the Marquis de Sade of all people; priceless. Shaking his head in amusement, he smiled at Kingsley who, for once, looked completely relaxed. He had always appreciated Kingsley's wry sense of humor and it was never more apparent then at times like this; when they were together and could just be themselves, and show each other things that others never knew _(they never knew)_ before.

Harry grinned warmly at the other man, a smile reserved only for him _(created for him; given for him)_. Not the polite smile he gave the public, nor the somewhat toothy grin he gave his friends; this was something special.

A genuine smile returned to the elder's face, and stern brown eyes softened as he gazed at his companion. Harry quirked his head to the side, eyes flittering over to the door and then back to Kingsley, who _(as always)_ knew what he was thinking.

"Ready to go?" Kingsley chuckled.

"Hmm," Harry hummed affirmatively, stretching languidly before standing and walking toward the exit, leaving his book on his chair. Stopping at the door, he turned to look over his shoulder at the still seated man.

"Coming _(with me)_?" He asked in a voice that held wishes, wonders, promises _(futures)_ in a single question.

There was a moment of silence before Kingsley stood as well, set his book down with a slightly shaking hand, and moved to stand beside his companion. His eyes held questions _(Are you...)_, but they were laid to rest by Harry's smile _(Yes). _The younger man turned and opened the door and, with a smile, they stepped through.

Together.

_As Always._

* * *

... For some reason, I think this might be my favorite drabble so far.

Anyways, like always, reviews are always appreciated and adored and, even if you don't review, I hope you enjoyed reading this!

Love you guys,

Ariaeris

Ps: Ideas are always welcome and encouraged. It's wonderful to hear feedback from readers, whether they like my stories or not!


	18. Flagrant Vanity

--Peeks out from behind a brick wall.--

I'm alive. Surprise!

* * *

To be honest, Bill could be a bit vain at times. Constantly checking his hair, wearing the best clothes possible, never leaving his home without being pristinely clean; his closest friends would sometimes joke that he was a princess stuck in a prince's body.

It was not his fault though. No, the cause of his vanity was not some fervent need to be perfect (that was Percy, even after his reformation), nor was it a desire to be at the top of some social pecking order. In fact, Bill could not care less how he appeared in the eyes of the public; although he had once been bothered by how others thought of him, that paranoia had been tempered.

His facial disfigurements had been quick to annihilate any pride he had had with his appearance as well.

Though, much like how he had once concerned himself with the thoughts of others, his scars had faded over time. Now, he had thin white lines crisscrossing his face, not the thick, bloody gashes that could inspire revulsion with a single glance. He had grown apathetic and indifferent to the opinions of the public, and he had begun to understand the fickleness in the minds of the many. He had known he had been beautiful once, but those who had called him their friend had fled, along with his self-pride, upon the arrival of his scars. Few remained by his side, but he had grown to love these few with all his heart: his family, two or three friends from Hogwarts, his fellow curse breakers, and…Harry.

The source of his vanity.

Harry was the very epitome of beauty, not just in his eyes but in the eyes of countless others. Pale skin, blindingly bright green eyes, lithe yet strong… wasn't there once a muggle tale of "a face that could launch a thousand ships?" It didn't matter though.

Harry could start wars if he wished.

He didn't though. Instead, he had come to a newly scarred half-breed, writhing in pain and rejection, and had rebuilt him from scratch. His life, his mind, his love. His pride. All rebuilt by the gentle hands of a beauty who had loved a beast.

No one could ever compare to Harry; no one could ever have done what he had done for Bill.

Still, at times, Bill wondered what was wrong with his Beauty; what had compelled Harry to seek him out and repair him when he had the most gorgeous of men falling at their knees, begging for just a single chance at his love, just a single moment of his attention? At times, Bill felt that he was unworthy of Harry, that somehow he had cheated and won the heart of an angel when his appearance had been nothing less than demonic.

So he began to check his appearance; he made sure his hair was in place and neat, that his clothes were fine and of the highest quality, that his skin was never blemished or dirty. He wanted to feel that he was worthy of his Beauty's love, and so he had begun to appear vain.

Harry was the source of his 'vanity.' After all, his love deserved nothing less than someone equally as perfect as himself.

* * *

--Peers upwards.--

I'm not sure if I actually like this one...it seems a bit forced to me. Send in your opinions though; review, please!

Also, for everyone who requested a pairing to be drabble-fied (remember the ten I asked for?) please check the bottom of my profile. Thanks! Thank you to everyone who has read and/or written a review as well; I hope you have all enjoyed my story so far!

One last thing; Internet problems and school woes are not justifiable reasons for not updating for over four months. You have my most sincere apologies and, rest assured, there will never be a hiatus this long ever again. After all, during my forced break, I did write a ton of drabbles.

Ariaeris~


	19. Vacant Reflector

Surprise! A quick update! You all must be on the ground, dying of heart attacks!

...Now I'm going to be sued. _Wonderful_.

For those of you who are still alive though, enjoy some nice, introspective, pre-slash.

**Disclaimer:**I do not own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any copyrighted idea in conjunction with Harry Potter. That would be J.K. Rowling, but she is generous enough to allow us fanfictioneers to play around with her wonderful creations. So, yay for her.

And, before I forget as I did last chpater, for totally nailing the point of chapter 17, and for sticking with me through my crappy writing (only in the beginning, I hope)... **Chapter 17 is officially dedicated to Pandora of Ithilien. **Yay for her as well! And to all my reviewers and readers (especially my triumvirate of awesome), a special cheer for you as well!

Now, onto the story!

* * *

Radiant, glorious, shining… it seemed that with the final defeat of Voldemort only two years ago, Harry had gone from the Wizarding World's sole hope, their scion of light, to something more. Something greater, larger than life. Supreme.

The only thing in existence that could ever rival Harry's brilliance in the eyes of the grateful public was the sun. Dazzling, almost blindingly so, he was the one who had cast away the darkness, and saved the world. He had been the one who had returned light to their lives. Their savior, their light; their sun.

And yet, they didn't understand.

Not even Harry's closest friends did; even after years together, only he knew the true Harry. Sirius may have know, just before he died, but that was inconsequential now; only he was left here, left to recover the shattered fragments of what was once Harry, and watch him flourish once more after he had repaired the broken man.

He understood that light could dim, could waver and flicker. He understood that Harry was much like a small fire, indecisive behind a mask of bravery, instability hidden behind a veil of control. Harry needed a rock, an unchangeable force, a constant source of happiness so that he might be happy himself.

He knew that Harry, mature far beyond his years and wise of things that had no reason being known, had a child somewhere deep down on the inside. As clichéd as it sounded, he knew that somewhere, hidden in Harry's subconscious, there was an entity crying out for help and guidance, for what was he supposed to do now that he had completed his life's purpose?

It was clear to him, and only him, that Harry had become cold; chilled and numb to the world around him, unable to express himself. Although a veneer of happiness and of peace was a constant presence surrounding him, somewhere, perhaps right beside that lost child, there was a snarling beast, rabid for freedom. A beast made of all those hidden emotions, an amalgam of all of humanity's greatest gifts and curses that Harry had been forced to be bereft of. It was painful to watch the green-eyed man go through the motions of life, a falsely-whole grin plastered to his pale face. Yet he forced himself to watch; he was the only one who knew, and so he was the only one who could help.

The most obvious thing to him though was what scared him the most; that the lost child and the snarling beast were but mere flecks in the sea of darkness Harry was made of. There was nothing left of Harry; then again, perhaps this child and this beast were all that there ever was. Maybe, all this time, Harry had been nothing but an empty shell, brightened only by a stifled innocence and the barest tatters of emotion.

Harry was always compared the sun nowadays, bright and powerful. Those who viewed him as such were mistaken though. Harry was not pure light, radiating from within; instead he was a symbol of goodness, the reflection of the world's hopes and dreams, a mirror to humanity's brightest light.

Remus was forced to conclude that Harry made a much better moon than a sun.

* * *

...I don't like this one either. Is it because it's too introspective and doesn't have enough dialogue? Luckily, the dialogue problem will be solved in the next drabble, and the final one of the second set, a Blaise/Harry...with a dinner party. Of awkwardness!

As I said last chapter, if you requested a pairing to be made into a drabble, please check the bottom of my profile briefly.

Finally, please remember that my body and soul can be bought through cash, credit, or reviews. Wouldn't you like your own personal Ariaeris, complete with sub-par writing and tardiness issues? If so, please review now! As a bonus, if you review with a positive comment or constructive criticism, you will get a sneak peak of one story that I'm writing and obsessing over...you know you want to review...

Ariaeris~


	20. Emotional Overabundance

Three times in a row that I'm on time; you all must be as amazed as I am!

I would like to thank Mariel Nightstalker, Pandora of Ithilien, and wingedblackwolf, for reviewing last chapter and I would also like to thank everyone who reads my story. Although you do not review, the fact that you may enjoy what I write is enough for me (though reviews are greatly appreciated!)

Anyway, this is the last drabble of the second set, so after this, we begin the whole rotation again.

Finally, I would like to remind everyone that if you requested a pairing to be turned into a drabble, it is vitally important that you check my profile for information regarding your request. Also, I have a new poll up regarding this story, so don't forget to check that out if you have the time!

**Disclaimer:** I am not J.K. Rowling (a). Therefore I don't hold the copyright to the Harry Potter series (b). A plus B equals the fact that I do not own Harry Potter.

Enjoy the drabble!

* * *

Blaise leaned back in his chair, groaning silently at the multiple pops he heard as his back cracked, and glanced around at the people sitting in his dining room. He was by no means a social person, and although his boyfriend was usually just as antisocial, Harry had decided rather suddenly that he had wanted to throw a party. A _party, _for Merlin's sake. And, due to being both an evil demon and a fairly good wielder of the dreaded 'Kicked Puppy Dog Eyes,' he had managed to convince Blaise to join him, ruining Blaise's plans for a night of avoiding his boyfriend and his far too loud friends. No, now he had to sit, a painfully polite grin etched upon his face, and have his patience eroded by the mass of eye-watering red hair that Harry called his 'family' and the surfeit of warm and fuzzy feelings that continued to nauseate him slightly.

Circe, if he go another hug then he was taking a knife to the nearest redhead, consequences be damned.

Glancing over at Draco, and ignoring the bushy-haired receptacle of knowledge that was chattering away beside him, he almost sent a beseeching look at his best friend. Deciding that he still had a small amount of self pride left, he glared instead, black eyes boring into the blond with murderous intent. Somehow, someway, he knew this was the youngest Malfoy's fault; Harry would never suggest something as inane as a _party _without the influence of the aggravating blond. Blaise's theory was only proven when Draco titled his head, amused blue eyes locking with furious black, before smirking and turning back to his ongoing insult fest with Ron.

Screw the rules, that bitch was going down.

"Blaise?" A light voice questioned from behind him, causing the dark young man to turn to his lover.

"Thank Merlin," Blaise muttered, grasping Harry's arm and dragging him to sit on his left, Granger still blathering away on his right. "How do you stand these people?"

Harry glanced around, green eyes wandering over the multitude of Weasleys, various members of the now defunct Order of the Phoenix, and a variety of their friends from their days at Hogwarts.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, wrapped in what must have been false innocence because no one was that ignorant or deceptive.

"What do I mean?" Blaise seethed. "Your friends are completely ridiculous! Wealsey over there refuses to shut up, Granger has defied all natural laws by not taking a single breath in the last twenty minutes (Merlin, does she not shut up either?!), the rest of these people are abnormally loving (will people please stop hugging me!), and I have had more than my fill of human interaction for the next few lifetimes due to these imbeciles!" Blaise shouted, breathing heavily from his uncharacteristic rant.

Harry was silent following Blaise's exclamation, head titled forward, his eyes shadowed by his hair, creating an extremely eerie image.

"Harry?" Blaise questioned tentatively, not gaining a response. "Harry? I'm sorry, you know I don't mean what I said. I'm sorry, Love. Harry?" Blaise reached out, shaking his lover's shoulders, causing him to start.

"Oh, Blaise!" Harry cried. "Wait one moment…there! I just canceled the silencing spell; you looked like you were about to explode, so I decided to save your social reputation. So, what was it that you were saying?"

"Nothing Harry," Blaise sighed, resting his head on the table in front of him. "Nothing at all, my love."

He refused to cry, no matter how much he wanted to.

* * *

Poor, Blaise...

So...how was it? Did you like it, or did you dislike it? Did you see any errors, or was my writing relatively flawless? Do you have any suggestions or requests? If so, please take the time to review; even if your comment is but a single word, I would greatly appreciate to hear some feedback from my readers (thank you wingedblackwolf for going out on a limb and reviewing; I enjoyed our conversation together).

In any case, the third set will be starting up soon and the first person who reviews gets to chose who they want to see first. So review, and see your favorite before all the others!

Ariaeris~


	21. Well Meant Catalyst

**EVERYONE!!! READ THE BELOW!!!**

Now that I (hopefully) have everyone's attention, maybe these notices won't be skipped over, as it seems a few people are wont to do.

If you asked for a certain pairing to be turned into a drabble when I offered to do so a few chapters ago, then I need you to check the near-bottom of my profile for an important notice. Also, I have a new poll up as a few people have seen already, but it will be up for the rest of the time this story is incomplete. So why don't you check it out and, if it interests you, vote!

Also, does anyone have any suggestions for a better name and summary for this? I had no idea what to put for either when I started this story and I can't help but feel that both are putting off potential readers. So if you have any suggestions, please send them to me in a review.

I believe that wraps about everything up, so it's almost time to begin the story. I have to warn you though; I wrote this a while ago, so it may not be up to my usual standards. I liked this though for some reason and, when wingedblackwolf asked for an Oliver/Harry drabble, I jumped at the chance to post this. Hopefully it won't be too bad.

**Disclaimer:**I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own anything in relation with the Harry Potter Series. I own but my ideas and the ability to share them with you all.

**_Warning:_ **_The following story contains a cringe worthy amount of attempts at British colloquialisms, a lack of Oliver's (sexy) accent, and quite a few swears that may or may not force me to change the rating of the story; nevertheless this story will be descending into M rated territory (or at least the fringes of it) with the Viktor/Harry drabble coming up, so why not start the M stuff now? I like italics; don't you? I hope Harry's (justified) swearing_ _does not offend anyone._

On with the story!

* * *

Harry shivered slightly in the cold morning air, burrowing himself into the muggle sweatshirt he was wearing underneath his outer robes. It had been a brisk morning despite the warm weather that May usually brought around, so Harry was wholly unprepared for the chill that enveloped his body from his very first moment outside. He pitied the people flying above him, for it was most certainly even more freezing at the altitudes in which Quidditch was normally played then it was at the bottom of the pitch where Harry was sitting.

It was still bloody freezing though! Damn Oliver and his stupid Quidditch training/torture practices. Something deep down on the inside whispered to Harry that Oliver must have been one hell of a sadist, for no other captain would even dare think of waking their team up at 2:30 in the fucking morning to go out into the damp, freezing weather only to work their already tired bones into piles of mush. Any other team would probably have mutinied. The team wasn't even practicing, they were just spinning around like bloody ballerinas in the sky!

"Tempus," Harry whispered through blue-tinted lips, watching a clock face appear in the visible air released from between his clattering teeth. 4:00 AM. Four. Fucking. AM. Merlin damn Oliver, no Merlin damn Quidditch! It had taken almost two hours, but Harry's desire for warmth finally won out over his burning, Merlin, wouldn't that be convenient to be on fire right now, love of Quidditch.

Damn it, he was freezing. And wet. And he so didn't have the patience for this.

"Oliver!" he shouted. "Get your arse down here!"

Receiving no response, Harry growled before casting a sonorous charm.

"OLIVER! DOWN HERE! NOW!!"

That caught his attention. It only took a minute for the keeper to touch down and rush over.

"Something wrong, Har?" Oliver questioned, a concerned look directed at the seeker currently sitting on an uncomfortable looking wooden chair.

"Yes, Oliver, there is something very wrong. You see, I'm all for Quidditch and therefore I'm all for practicing said sport. Unfortunately though, I have a broken leg and am therefore unable to play."

"I know that, Harry," began Oliver.

"Oh, really? Then you can tell me why the bloody hell I'm out in freezing weather, with nothing to do but watch you guys play and feel jealous over me not being able to be up there with you!" Harry shouted, cutting off the older man.

"We're not trying to make you jealous Harry," Oliver replied grinning. "No we're just… giving you a little motivation towards getting better quickly."

"By torturing me with the cold, which will make me sick, and with jealousy?" Harry deadpanned.

"Of course!" Oliver chirped, a pseudo-innocent grin on his face.

"Someone… anyone… help me, please." Harry pleaded under his breath.

"Harry," Oliver spoke seriously. "The team depends on you a lot. And I--we care about you. We know that you're frustrated with your leg needing to be healed the muggle way. So thought, maybe if we gave you a show, you would be less frustrated. More happy."

Harry smiled softly. "That's sweet, Oliver."

"Yeah," Oliver replied, a faint blush spreading across his face. "Get better quickly though, we're facing the Harpies soon and we'll need you, okay?"

"Sure," Harry answered, still smiling. "Oh, and Oliver?"

"Hm?" Oliver questioned.

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, Harry," Oliver replied, winking. "Anything for you."

---------------Ten minutes later---------------

"You could have made me happy without dragging me out into the cold!"

* * *

...Damn, I'm sorry wingedblackwolf; that was nowhere near as good as I wanted it to be. I hoped you enjoyed it though.

Remember everyone, reviews are a writer's motivation; although I would never hold a story hostage for reviews, more reviews usually inspires me (when Pandy-chan isn't) and the make me want to update faster so as not to disappoint my readers (this is the fourth story in a row that was posted less then two days after the preceding one)!

So, please review!

Ariaeris~


	22. Rewritten

Okay, this is a tiny bit late (Hah! Two days is late to me now!) but I hope you all will forgive me.

As always, I would like to thank all of my reviews for reviewing (Hopefully I don't have to write out your names; you know who you are!) and I hope that everyone who continues to read this story enjoys it.

Anyway, I hope you like the chapter!

**Disclaimer:** I have no mildly amusing quip here for you; all I can say is that I do not own the Harry Potter series and I am making no monetary profit out of this work.

* * *

A solid thump heralded the arrival of an airborne entity who, due to the infernal force known as gravity, slammed rather painfully onto the wooden table where the Gryffindors sat, previously eating dinner. Harry, like any other normal human being, started at the sudden presence, drawing his wand in precaution; as near to Halloween as it currently was, he was not taking any chances.

Beside him, his two friends and his new boyfriend, Cedric, stood with him, drawing their wands as well. The teachers had also stood; ready to defend their charges if necessary.

The unknown man groaned and stood as well, his messy black hair falling to cover the right side of his face. Harry started again; the stranger did not appear to be that much older than himself! The man also appeared to be wounded, his leg a bit bloody and bruised, and he shook slightly as he rose to his feet.

Dumbledore stepped forward, his eyes incongruously sharp compared to his loose stance. "May we get your name, my child?"

The stranger's visible eye snapped open, a sharp-green eye shooting over to focus on the elderly Headmaster. The young man smirked slightly, grasping a slender golden chain that encircled his throat. Confused looks were shared as the man removed the band from around his neck, but Harry, Hermione, and Dumbledore stiffened at the sight of the timeturner attached to the chain.

"I won't be needing this anymore," the stranger said glibly in an oddly familiar voice, before shattering the timeturner, its fine sand spilling to litter the ground. Not noticing, or not caring, of the shocked looks sent his way from the ones who understood what he had just done, the young man stalked forward, quickly zeroing in on the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Alastor Moody. He paused momentarily just outside the age circle that Dumbledore had set earlier around the Triwizard Cup, glaring at the chalice with a surprising amount of hate, before moving on.

Moody quickly became nervous as the oncoming man drew closer, and he reached out in order to cast a spell to stop him. He was quickly interrupted though, when the young man cast a swift _expelliarmus_, sending the ex-auror's wand flying. Dumbledore frowned slightly as his paranoid friend was disarmed so easily, and he signaled to the teachers to not interfere unless necessary.

The brunette stopped but a foot in front of the professor, laying his hands on the teacher's table that separated them and leaning forward. Moody inhaled quickly as the man's hair shifted, revealing something only he could see, and he made to step backwards in shock. The unknown man grasped the other's shirt though, and pulled the man over the table, throwing him to the ground in a startling show of strength. Moody scrambled to stand, but a quick body-bind kept him in place until the ex-auror's polyjuice-induced transformation canceled itself.

Dumbledore did not dally to stun the imposter, sending the revealed man unconscious.

Smiling gleefully, the mysterious man threw his head back in relieved laughter, his hair shifting to the side with the movement, revealing a familiar scar. As he faded out of existence as the future was rewritten, the savior said only, "Don't mess with my loved ones."

* * *

The last line seemed a little awkward, but overall I think I did pretty well on this one. An original idea in any case; I don't believe I've ever seen a time travel fic where Harry sacrifices himself to stop the Tournament from ever happening. Oh, and to clear up any confusion that may have rose over the time line, the future Harry is from soon after the DOM incident and the present story is set right after Dumbledore announces the Triwizard Tournament.

In any case, I hope you all liked it and, to everyone who celebrates it, I wish a Happy Thanksgiving!

Ariaeris~


	23. Eternal Guardian

Going by name, following Ce'dric' will be Go'dric'/Harry. Blatant too, unlike those two vague drabbles written earlier!

As always, I wish to inform you that if you had requested a pairing to be turned into a drabble, time is running up for you to be able to clam them; other people have already started to move in on your spots and take them as their own. Other than that, there is also a poll on my profile concerning who _you_ think Harry's Mr. Right will be; why don't you check it out if you haven't already?

I would like to thank Mariel Nightstalker, Shinigami, Pandora of Ithilien,and especially Morgan WhiteFang for reviewing; Ms. WhiteFang even reviewed _thirteen _times if I'm not mistaken (!!), so a big round of applause should go to her.

Anyway, that's all I needed to say, so onto the story.

**Disclaimer:** Do I even need this anymore? Needless to say I do not own the Harry Potter Series and I do not believe J.K. Rowling is willing to part with her beloved cash cow.

Forward charge!

* * *

"I don't understand how you can't see what I'm talking about Salazar." The specter of a tall man said, his arms waving erratically in frustration due to his silent companion.

Said silent companion sighed at his excitable friend, bored dark green eyes glancing up from his tome to stare at the bouncing russet haired man. "You look like a puppy, happy to see its master, Godric. Calm yourself."

"If you just look, just once, you will see what I am talking about!" Godric exclaimed, futilely trying to suppress the whine that slipped out in his plea.

"Godric," the scholar said, returning to his book as he spoke. "I have tolerated your infatuation for seven years now, ever since you fell in love with an eleven-year old _child_. I defended you against a furious Helga, not a feat for the weak willed I assure you, when you gave a child your sword-"

"Anything sounds wrong when you say it in that tone!" Godric interrupted irately.

"I have said nothing that would warrant such embarrassment, Godric," Salazar smirked. "As I was saying though, I have dealt with your constant whining and complaining for far too long. I know that if I even consider this idiotic scheme of yours, you will be on me, relentlessly tormenting me day in and day out until I capitulate to you. I draw the line here though; I refuse to think on your flight of fancy any longer."

Godric fell silent, gazing at the students who had taken his name. Although they chattered unceasingly of menial things, he watched them as a father would a child, overwhelmed with pride. Though he had long since left the mortal world, these were still his students, still the ones he had toiled endlessly to provide an education for.

One stood out though, whom he thankfully did not have familial feelings for; Merlin knows that he had already drawn the ire of Helga enough without adding pseudo-incestual feelings into the equation. With a body fit for a king, a mind nearly unparalleled, strength nearly surpassing his own both magically if not physically, and a heart that shone with the most brilliant of lights, Harry Potter had ensorcelled Godric at sight. Though feeling attraction to an eleven year old – a child!- had disgusted him originally, with the passing years, Godric had grown to love the seventeen year old savior with all his soul.

If only Salazar could see what he saw! Constantly watching Harry as a shade of power imbued in Hogwarts, imprints him and his companions had created to eternally protect their school and students, it was not an exaggeration to say that he knew Harry better than anyone else. He could ease Harry's loneliness, he could give Harry the love he deserved if given but a single chance.

Salazar sighed at the pure love that shone in his friend's eyes. How could he even be considering this…this perversion of magic. This was necromancy that Godric wished for! And yet…

"Come with me, Godric." He commanded, releasing a rare smile at Godric's confused look. "We have a ritual to prepare."

* * *

Aww, Sally has a heart~

As a side note, because someone might mention it, this Salazar is not the same Salazar from the first two G/H drabbles; therefore, this Salazar is not Harry sent back to the past. Just wanted to make that clear.

Reviews are like the morning sun, gently carressing my face with their pleasant waves. So review, and grant me sunshine!

As a side note, if you think Godric/Harry is an odd pairing, just wait until I post my second Fire Emblem story later today. The uniqueness will make little innocent kittens' heads explode.

Mwahahahaha -

/choke/

The dying remnants of what was once Ariaeris~


	24. Lazy Days

Heh, sorry that it has been awhile since I last posted. Unfortunately, longer breaks between updates are going to become more common; I start back at school tomorrow, so I will have less time to write stories, type them out, and post them here. Never fear though; while I most likely won't be able to give you daily updates as I did earlier, I will attempt to post something every one to three days if I can.

In any case , thank you to everyone who has reviewed, especially Morgan WhiteFangwho once again sent me a veritable ton of reviews. Thank you Ms. WhiteFang! I would also like to thank anyone who reads my story; as always, I am less concerned with reviews and more concerned with if you enjoy my story or not (although reviews are loved, of course).

Anyway, in case you didn't notice, I decided to bump this story up to the M rating just in case. The fault mainly lies with this chapter; although it is nowhere near as explicit as some of the things I've seen on this website, it is a bit more mature than my previous drabbles. So if a little swearing and suggestive comments/actions offend you, maybe you'll just like to skip over this one. In advance, sorry for the kind of explicit stuff Pandy.

For those who don't mind a bit more mature material, then read on and enjoy!

**Disclaimer (for the rest of the story): **I do not own. Simple as that.

* * *

It was to a pleasant warmth that Harry awoke to, firmly snuggled within his boyfriend's arms. It had rained the night before, forcing the two to abandon their plans for a quick pick-up game of Quidditch, instead going to bed early. Now though, the sun was shining, birds were chirping outside the window sill, and the day was shaping up to be as perfect as it could possibly be.

Harry, understandably, drew closer to his boyfriend, hiding himself as best as he could underneath their shared blankets while attempting to stay entrapped within Viktor's arms.

The younger seeker's rustling rose Victor from his slumber, the Bulgarian stretching and yawning as his sleep was interrupted. Looking down at his hiding lover, Viktor yawned before asking, voice rough with sleep, "Harry. What are you doing down there?"

Harry had migrated from Viktor's arms to the foot of the bed with the elder's awakening, and he did not respond so far under the covers as he was. Who could blame him for hiding though; with his infamous bad luck, such a perfect day could only lead to ruination!

Viktor smiled bemusedly at Harry, not quite used to his young lover's quirks. Not allowing his boyfriend to remain inside his silk bastion, he grabbed Harry by the nape of his neck and pulled him from his hiding place.

Harry, to his chagrin, squeaked at his boyfriend's show of strength as he was settled in the elder's lap, the dark haired Bulgarian grinning lasciviously at him.

"Now, my love we can pursue more…pleasurable activities." Viktor blinked, seemingly in revelation. "Though, now that I think on it, I suppose I could have found just as much pleasure if you had stayed under there then if I had forced you up here." The elder seeker pondered out loud.

Blushing furiously, Harry punched him in the arm and attempted to crawl out of Viktor's lap, only to be stopped by the other man's hands on his hips. Harry shot him a warning look, which met the other's predatory smirk. "Let me go, Vicky."

The Bulgarian man's eye twitched at the infantile nickname one of his fangirls had bestowed him with, growling lowly at the smug young seeker. "Why should I do that, my love? After all, I have you right where I want you."

"I don't think so," Harry muttered, fending off the other's groping hands. "We don't have time for this. We have to meet the rest of the team, remember?"

"Fuck the team," Viktor snarled, eyes dark with lust.

"And here I thought it was only me you wanted to -" Viktor's lips cut him off, dragging him into a searing kiss.

Pulling back, Harry panted heavily before glaring at Viktor, who merely smiled smugly at him. "Oh, _fine!_ Happy now?"

"Quite," Viktor purred, before pulling hid down into another blazing kiss, dispelling quite thoroughly any of Harry's lingering fears of the day being anything less than perfect.

* * *

Bad? Good? Review and tell me!

As a final reminder, if you requested a pairing to be drabbled, then you need to check my profile if you haven't already. If you don't, then I will open up unclaimed spots for others to request their own pairing. Also, don't forget that I have a fairly active poll going on, so why don't you check that out if you haven't already?

Finally, for any Fire Emblem fans out there, I posted a new story a few days ago. It's Ike/Volug! Yay for rare pairings! If this interests you, the link is right on my profile for your reading enjoyment. I hope you like it if you decide to check it out!

Ariaeris~


	25. The Definition of Importance

Here we go again~

As you can see, some changes have been made since last chapter; the rating of this story has shot up to M, I wrote a new summary (which is much better than the original in my opinion), and this is the twenty-fifth chapter in this tale. Including the ten requested interludes, we are officially at the half-way point of this series.

Due to such an important placement of this chapter, I wanted to write something extra special. I looked through all of my stored chapters, my thrown away ideas, and my random bursts of inspiration, and I eventually cobbled together this drabble. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

"It won't be that bad, Harry. So stop complaining." Blaise said calmly, dragging his resisting boyfriend behind him. "I have already met Black and Lupin. The Weasleys as well, and the Order following them. The least you could do is meet my mother."

"No offense Blaise," Harry replied, trying to wriggle out of the larger man's grasp. "But your mother is a little psychotic."

"Thank you," Blaise answered nonchalantly. "Don't even attempt to gnaw your wrist off, Harry."

"How…?" Harry trailed off, halting his latest plan to free himself from the other's tight grip.

"Psychic powers." Blaise smirked.

"More like freaky intuition." Harry muttered. "If I didn't know better, I would say you were using legilmency on me."

"Please," Blaise scoffed. "You're more paranoid than Moody; it would take hours for even the most skilled legilmens to even make a scratch on your mental shields. Stoop preening." Harry's hand stopped on its journey to his head, where it was going to attempt for the umpteenth time to arrange his eternally messy hair.

"Now you're edging into scary territory, Blaise." Harry said cautiously. "You aren't stalking me, are you?" Blaise was silent, and Harry begun to pray to whatever deity would take pity on him for mercy.

"We're here." Blaise announced, stopping before the entrance to the Zabini manse. "Please stop worrying, love. Mother will adore you."

"What if she doesn't though? You have told me of your mother; what she does to her husbands." Harry said nervously.

"My mother may not be the most moral person in the world, but she understands the importance of family." Harry could not contain his incredulous snort, and Blaise's stance softened noticeably in understanding. "Though it may seem odd to you my mother's paramount concern has always been her family; those most important to her: Me, my father, and herself."

"Then why does she…?" Harry paused, unsure of how to phrase his question inoffensively.

"Mother's concern for her family, her most precious of all people, stems from her past. Destitute as she was in her childhood, she grew up seeing wealth as equivalent to security and she desired that, when she would marry, she would be able to provide this security that she was bereft of to her children. Through providence, my mother and my father fell in love and married, bringing my mother into wealth coincidentally."

"Shortly after my birth though," Blaise continued. "Father died and Mother feared for the stability she and I had been granted. So she married another wealthy man, this time for money instead of love, and soon after disposed of him. She inherited his money in her will and, continuing this patter for many years, Mother reached the security she had always desired for us. She and I had become autonomous, not needing the support of another."

"The Potter fortune," Harry whispered, voice unsteady with emotion. "Could she not see this as a further safeguard for your autonomy?"

"Rest easy, my love." Blaise smiled softly, carding a dark hand through the other's unruly locks. "Mother would not dare lay a finger on you. I am her primary concern, and she would do nothing that might possibly displease me."

"Besides," Blaise murmured, kissing his green-eyed lover's brow. "I am much like my mother; I care only for what is most important to me. That used to be my mother and I, but as soon as she sees you, she will realize that _my_ first concern is that no longer."

* * *

Blaise is just a big softy wrapped up in a healthy dose of badass-ness and awesome, isn't he? I didn't really like my first Blaise/Harry drabble, and the second one was more humorous than anything else, but this one is one of the most serious of all the drabbles I've written so far. Actually, it's a top contender for my favorite drabble in the entire series.

Anyway, tell me how you liked it and if you have any questions. As any writer on this site can tell you, a well-thought out review is one of the most cherished things you can find.

Also, because no one claimed it, there is one open spot left to be filled for a pairing to be made into a drabble. So, if you've ever wanted a certain pairing to be written but you've never found one before, review and send it to me, and I will write it for you!

Ariaeris!


	26. Quondam Perfection

Um, wow; when I said updates would take longer to come out, I didn't mean you would have to wait for almost a week! Sorry!

Anyway, to cut this short, thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter, and I hope you enjoy this drabble as well. Also, to everyone who hasn't reviewed but still reads my story, I hope you continue to enjoy it as well.

Finally, where art thou Shi-kun who is not Shi-kun any longer, but who I will continue to call Shi-kun?

**Warning: **Angst. Lots of Angst. With a capital A.

* * *

"Tired, love?" Harry asked as he stepped towards his worn lover, a mug of hot chocolate in one hand and a goblet of pain-relieving potion in the other.

"Thank you." Remus rasped, throat sore from the howling and screaming that had rent the still air the night before. He grasped the goblet first with shaking hands and drank it quickly, sighing in minor relief as his tremors lessened slightly.

Harry looked at his lover in concern; though the elder tried to hide it, the fact was that Remus was quickly growing tolerant to the latest pain-reliving potion. And it was the strongest one that had come out in years, and the last potion of its level to be slated for release for the next few years.

Despite trying his hardest to suppress it, a sob tore itself from Harry's throat. He sunk to his knees before the werewolf, clasping his hands in his lap, fearing that is he embraced Remus as he wanted to, he would shatter the fragile looking man.

When? When had it all gone wrong? Just a few months ago, Remus had been strong and healthy and looking younger than ever with Harry at his side as both a lover and a friend. Everything had seemed so perfect.

This had probably been why it had all been destroyed. Harry knew he was growing to be a bitter man daily, but who could blame him though; after finally finding the love he had always desired, he was being forced to watch as his lover's body and spirit slowly corroded.

The strain of fighting his inner nature had grown to be too much for Remus.

Remus had been fighting his inner wolf for almost all of his life, eternally fearful of what the consequences would be if he lost control. Although the Marauders, and later his relationship with Harry, had helped him grow less wary of the were, it was too little too late. After almost forty years of fighting, Remus was tired of the never ending struggle. So very tired.

Harry placed the other's head in his lap, humming softly as he stroked through Remus' purely silver hair. Today was the second day of the full moon, and the sun was to set in only three hours.

Tears spilled over Harry's cheeks, falling to splash lightly on the dying ma's face. Remus would not be able to survive another transformation; he had only three hours until all that mattered to him any more was stolen from him.

Remus lightly nuzzled the younger man's palm when he felt the first of Harry's tears. Even now, at the eve of his final moments, he was only concerned about Harry. The brunette cried only harder, clutching his dying lover to his chest.

"Don't go. Please don't go." Harry begged, rocking back and forth slightly, unable to breath, to live with the idea that this was _it._ No more second chances, no more supernatural luck; right when he needed it most, his ability to be the hero, to save his loved one, failed him.

"You should go." Remus whispered, not wanting his love to see him in his final moments. Harry only drew him closer, burying his tear-stained face in the other's hair. This may be their final moments together and, though it was hard to watch, he would be damned if he wasted a single moment of the precious time they had left.

* * *

I'm sorry Harry! I didn't mean to make Remus die! It just happened!

Please review and comfort me; my first attempt at angst is leaving me depressed. Also, if you could send me some e-band aids for the brain, then my SAT-addled brain would be most appreciative.

Ariaeris~


	27. Capricious Domination

Hah! Quick update! Aren't you suprised, all you Ariaeris-doubters!

Anyway, all theatrics aside, this new chapter is for all my faithful reviewers/readers. I hope you like it, even though what originally started out as a nice, quiet snark-fest turned into something really dark, really fast.

Dom!Harry scares me; I think I'm not going to write about him anymore...

You'll understand once the drabble is over. So, read on!

* * *

"I wish to introduce you to my son." Lucius said nonchalantly one evening while he and his lover were sitting in their library after dinner.

Harry peered over the book he was reading, eyes glinting curiously. "I do believe that I have already met Draco, Lucius. Or do you not remember the infamous school rivalry the two of us shared?"

"I wish to formally introduce you to Draco; after all, he needs to meet his new mother." Lucius smirked, taking a sip from the wine glass he held in his left hand.

"Yes, he should. Though it should be quite a surprise for him to see the role you have been relegated to." Harry raised a mocking eyebrow; he could compete in whatever little game the elder wished to play. And he could win.

"What do you think my son's reaction will be to our relationship?" Lucius purred. It was always fun to engage his young lover in some verbal jousting, and Lucius had been _so_ bored recently.

"No doubt he will be quite shocked; Draco was never the most perceptive person in the world." Harry taunted.

"Narcissa's reaction will be the moist interesting to watch, I believe. She always was a fiery one in whatever she did." Lucius smiled reminiscently.

Harry's grip on his book unconsciously tightened. "I don't know about that, Lucius. Ever since _she_ broke up with _you_, she's evolved into a much better person. Funny, huh? All it took to reveal her inner goodness was to remove the negative influences from her life."

"I suppose I was one of those influences?" Lucius asked, his eyes narrowed.

"You said it, darling. Not me." Harry smirked lazily.

"I take pride in my ability to being out the worst in people." Lucius defended. "It makes them so much more delightful to be around. Narcissa, Draco…even you. I've poisoned you all." Lucius smiled, looking like he was the proudest man on the face of the earth, and Harry was almost overcome with the desire to wipe that infuriatingly smug grin from the other man's face. Forcibly.

He reigned in his emotions though, and gave the blond a blindingly bright smile, only letting his true feeling show in the murderous glare he donned once his eyes were safely closed.

Lucius shivered noticeably in anticipation as he continued pushing his lover over the brink of sanity. Harry always kept his emotions under a tight lock and key, and the process of unlocking said emotions was always entertaining. Not to mention the inevitable results…

"I do suppose you were right about Narcissathough; remove all the dark things from her life and she changes into a completely different person. So changeable; Narcissa never remains in one state for long." Lucius paused to chuckle slightly. "Perhaps I should enshroud her in darkness once more? It shouldn't be too difficult a task to win her back from that mudblood you call a friend -"

A sharp crack silenced him as Harry swiftly struck him across the cheek. The brunette grabbed a handful of the other's blond hair and threw him on the ground, emerald eyes alight with an all-consuming rage.

"Bedroom, Lucius." Harry whispered, voice soft but dangerous, and Lucius shivered in ecstasy at what was to come as he crawled away. He loved pushing Harry for he loved what came afterwards, and he loved his punishments almost as much as the Master that dealt them.

* * *

I wish there was some way I could use the punctuational devices offered by my computer to delineate exactly what my facial expression is at the moment, but I think an exclamation of "what the f*ck was I on when I wrote this," is a sufficient enough explanation.

I think I'm gonna stick with Sub!Harry (in bed at least); I don't have to fear that he'll jump out of my computer and rape me if I do. Then again...

Ariaeris~

Ps: And yes, my dears, that _was _a reference to Narcissa/Hermione. Who would have guessed?


	28. Final Reunion

Are you ready for fluuuuuuufffffffffffffffff?

I hope so, because I have one heaping helping of nice Harry/Weasley fluff with a little bit of Bill/Harry on the side, smothered in a rich diabolical!Ginny sauce.

Sit down, bibs on, and enjoy. The yuminess is on me.

* * *

The dinner at the Weasley household had gone reasonably well all things considered; the food was excellent as usual and it had been good to see the Twins after so long apart. It was also the second time he had seen his newborn godson, and Teddy was adorable changing the color of his hair every few seconds, though Andromeda seemed a little weary of the baby's one act performance.

In fact, if Ginny's hateful stare was not included, it had been one of the best nights Harry had the pleasure of participating in recently.

Ginny was usually a fairly nice girl (if a little hot tempered) but when she was angry, it was best to just run in the opposite direction, girlish screams included. Especially when she held a grudge against someone; Ginny with a grudge is synonymous to Ginny on a warpath. Even Mrs. Weasley feared for her life when Ginny whipped out her "Little Black Book of Revenge" Nothing good ever came from having your name written in that book; in fact, the last person written in it had been in a horrible splinching accident a few weeks ago. He had healed with the help of St. Mungo's, but he looked more like a rag doll than a person now.

Unfortunately for Harry, Ginny was uncontrollably pissed with him, and she was out for blood.

"Hide me." Harry murmured in Bill's ear, ignoring Hermione and Fleur's giggling at what they saw as a display of affection.

"What did you do?" Bill whispered out of the side of his mouth, trying not to draw his psycho sister's attention.

"I -" Harry tried to reply, but a sickeningly sweet voice interrupted him, sending shivers down his spine.

"Harry, dear." Ginny cooed, hands on her hips and a grin that could frighten the devil on her face. "Come here and talk with me."

"Save me!" Harry pleaded, and the eldest Weasley child stood, ready to defend his young lover. An icy glare from his younger sister sat him right back down, and he smiled apologetically at the brunette.

"Traitor!" Harry hissed, his parseltongue trait revealing itself as his tone turned sibilant. "I hope you like the couch, honey."

"I'll take the bed; it's not like you'll be around to tell me otherwise." Bill smirked, and Harry's left eye developed a nervous twitch as he refrained from smacking his asshole of a husband.

"Harry~" Ginny sang, her voice analogous to funeral bells. The brunette man's already pale skin whitened a shade, but he valiantly rose to his feet and walked towards the female redhead, ever step causing a resounding crash as the noose hanging from Ginny's hand swayed pendulously back and forth.

A little overdramatic, but Harry was fairly certain that his death was to be delivered by the hands of his female companion.

"Come closer, Harry." Ginny said as Harry stopped a good ten feet away from her. "Closer." Harry shuffled forward, and Ginny grabbed the hem of her dress, showing it to him. "Can you tell me what this is? And don't be smart with me and say a dress."

"…A stain?" Harry said hesitantly.

"Good boy!" Ginny cooed, as if talking to a puppy who had just learned a new trick. "Do you know who cause this stain on my new, expensive, much loved dress, Harry?"

"Me?" Harry asked meekly.

"Give the man a medal." Ginny growled, her attitude doing an about-face.

"You believe in mercy, right?" Harry asked cautiously, eyes darting around in search of an escape route.

"Of course, my dearest brother-in-law. You have a ten second head start." Harry turned to flee, the obligatory high pitched scream already rising in his throat, when Ginny's hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar. "Starting five minutes ago."

* * *

Ginny's "Little Black Book of Revenge?" So not a Death Note.

As for why Fleur was there...she refuses to believe that she is anything but...can I even say that word on this site? I think you know what I'm talking about, but for those who don't, let's just say she is the co-founder of the Bill/Harry appreciation club. And it seems like quite a few of you are members; Bill is tied for first place on who you think will be Harry's Mr. Right. Do you agree with this; do you believe someone else should be Harry's One True Love? Then vote if you haven't already!

While you're at it, why not drop me a review? I'll give you my soul...or muffins. They're pretty much of equal value anyway.

Ariaeris~


	29. Ministerial Command

Welcome back!

We're almost done with the third set; only two more drabbles including this one! The end is nowhere near close though; the fourth set will ahve both the regular drabbles and the ten requested ones, and I will alternate between the two. Also, I've decided that instead of having the last drabble being Harry's One True Chosen One, I will write another drabble after everyone has their fourth. So we still have twenty-one drabbles until you're rid of me!

Anyway, this story was half inspired by the stories of soldiers coming home to their families, and half inspired by my meeting of the first man with gray hair that I could call sexy. Odd combination, no? It'll make sense once you read it.

So, read on and enjoy!

* * *

Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt sat rigidly behind his, his back straight and fists clenched tightly against the arms of his chair.

Before him sat the British Ministry of Magic's Head Auror and the Leader of Magical Law Enforcement, Harry Potter, looking slightly bloodied and bruised. Auror Potter and a group of three others had been assigned to investigate a potential dangerous situation in Mid-East Asia, and had accidentally been caught up in a muggle conflict residing in the area.

The reconnaissance mission was supposed to last no more than a week; the man before him, his team included, had been missing for almost two months before they had been able to return to British soil.

Kingsley's ignored Harry's droning report about how the reconnaissance team was had been forced to lie low or risk being injured and how he was sorry that the mission had not been completed successfully in favor of staring at the other man, drinking in his features. Other than a thin gash on his right cheek, Auror Potter seemed relatively unharmed; or that's what his medical dossier had said, at least. The Minister still watched the other carefully though, observing Harry's unconscious twitches of pain as he aggravated a concealed wound on the left side of his torso, and Kingsley searched for any other idiosyncratic deviations that might allude to any further damages.

"That is all, Minister." Harry concluded, startling Kingsley, who had been thoroughly searching for any wounds that might make themselves apparent on the brunette's lips.

"Thank you, Auror Potter." The Minister murmured, relaxing and slouching slightly in his high-backed chair. "Stand at ease."

There was a moment of stillness before Harry launched himself over Kingsley's desk, crushing his lips to the other man's. The elder's arms wrapped around the brunette's slim waist as he pulled Harry to his chest, gripping him in a tight hug. Harry broke off the kiss, panting slightly, and Kingsley buried his head in the other's shoulder, inhaling his lover's scent deeply.

"I thought you had…" Kingsley, ex-head auror and current Minister of Magic of one of the largest and most influential nations in the magical world, could not finish his confession, throat choking with emotion.

Harry's eyes softened and he nuzzled the side of the other man's head, settling himself comfortably in Kingsley's lap. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry."

"You're going to give me gray hairs, Harry. Well, more gray hairs." Kingsley chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath Harry's touch as the elder reached up to stroke his temple.

"I think the gray hair is sexy." Harry chuckled, brushing his hand over the elder's short hair. "So I'm fine with that."

"Do you have a mission tomorrow?" Kingsley asked after chuckling for a second time, leaning into Harry's petting.

"Hmm. I think so." Harry replied, moving to lightly rub his lover's broad chest.

"Not anymore. Minister's orders." Kingsley leaned down for another kiss, smothering Harry's startled squeak as he picked him up and started carrying him out of the office.

"Wha-!" Harry started, shivering at the other's dark smirk.

"You're on extended leave as of now for medical reasons. You need a vacation." Kingsley's low laugh rang out once more. "Rest, relaxation; just you and me. Sound good?

"Perfect." Harry replied, laying his head on Kingsley's chest, the other man's steady heartbeat lulling him to sleep.

* * *

...Why do I love my Kingsley/Harry drabbles so much? Do you all like them as well? If so, leave me a review and tell me what you like, don't like, or any other constructive criticisms you may have. I am open to improvement, but if you don't tell me what I can improve then I will not be able to.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this drabble and the next post will be coming soon!

Ariaeris~


	30. Marital Bliss

Good morning/afternoon/evening everyone! I'm sorry for the long update period; I really didn't mean to wait ten days between this update and the last, but my schedule has been a little hectic recently (my father's birthday, Christmas coming up soon, holiday break, etc.) and I got sidetracked. Sorry!

I'm in a good mood though (thank you SAT gods for bestowing upon me good grades!), so I decided I would suck it up and give you all some nice fluff. Aren't I nice?

Enjoy!

* * *

"Good Morning," Harry yawned as he stepped into the kitchen, arms stretched above his head, his shirt rising up to reveal a sliver of tanned skin.

Sirius' inner Padfoot whimpered at the sight, pawing at the corners of his mind to just reach out, and mount…Sirius slammed his head down on the kitchen table, causing Harry to jump in surprise. Ow; that may not have been his smartest action ever, but Sirius was proud that his apparently pervy inner animal had been silenced. Of course, its silence came at the cost of a massive headache, but surely it was worth it to stop having such…odd thoughts about your own _much_ younger godson.

Speaking of said godson, Harry was currently bending over to grab a pan to start breakfast with, giving Sirius a nice glance of his…Sirius vocally whimpered this time. Harry looked over his shoulder to check on him – and Merlin, was that a sultry look!? – before turning back to his pan expedition.

Sirius crossed his legs in despair; he had been living with Harry for almost two years now, so shouldn't he be used to seeing his godson bent over, panting from exertion, hands groping for…

Sirius smashed his head on the table once more, leaning a small dent in it. For a second he thought that he could hear James' death threats from beyond the grave, but that might have just been the ringing in his ears.

"Sirius? Are you okay?" Harry asked, head cocked innocently to the side.

"Huh? Yeah, yeah, I'm fine! Just peachy, actually! Never been better!" Sirius babbled, cheeks heating at Harry's vaguely amused look.

"If you say so." Harry said, setting a plate in front of Sirius before sitting across from him. Harry, a surprisingly proficient cook, had managed to whip up a breakfast of eggs and a few other assorted items without Sirius even noticing in the span of a few minutes, something Sirius was fairly certain was impossible, but blew off as just another example of how awesome Harry was. Knowing Harry, he probably just glared at them and they made themselves. Sirius knew the feeling; Harry's glare was all-powerful.

Sirius scooped up a little bit of his eggs and was about to take a bite when he glanced up at Harry and almost choked on air. Harry was eating eggs; not that extraordinary of a sight, but the _way_ he was eating them…Sirius' eyes darkened in lust and rage, and he was thrown into a fit of jealousy over an eating utensil greater than anything he had ever felt before. That was _his_ mouth, and no fork was allowed to touch let alone partake in obscene activities with Sirius' property.

Sirius stood suddenly and grabbed Harry's arm, lifting him from his chair and trying his hardest to ignore the white egg that lingered upon his lips, and started dragging him up the stairs and towards his bedroom. He thought he might have heard a whispered "finally," but Sirius ignored him, might to caught up in all of the fantasies he was about to fulfill with his loved one.

* * *

This was for all those who were getting a little frustrated over the fact that everyone but Sirius was getting a bit of Harry. Poor Sirius. He's better now though!

Next update will be coming soon (hopefully before 2009), and we will be starting the interludes and the final ten drabbles as well. You still have to read through twenty more barely-acceptable chapters, and the long story for the winner, before I'm finished with you! And then we get into my newer plot bunnies...mwahahahaha!

Ariaeris~


	31. Deviation 1: Whirlwind

Soooo...how many people hate me for taking an unexcused absence from fanfiction writing (again)? Or better yet, do I still have any readers? Abby? Ms. Whitefang? Wingedblackwolf? Shi-kun? PANDY-CHAN!?!

Ah, I guess we'll see after this, right?

Anyway, enjoy the first deviation; there are still nine more to go, and ten more 'accords' as I like to call them. In fact, the next update, hopefully soon now that I have my Honors/AP applications out of the way, will be an accord.

* * *

Smooth pale flesh moved sensually against tanned, freckled limbs, and ruby red lips opened in a gasp of unadulterated pleasure as the other sank to his knees, taking him into-

A loud crash raised Harry abruptly from his daydream, sending the raven tumbling from his perch on top of the counter in the Burrow, sending Mrs. Weasley's carefully arraigned cooking utensils clattering to the floor alongside him. Laughter followed as Harry gingerly rose from where he had fallen, rubbing his back tenderly as it throbbed in pain.

"Shit, shit." Harry moaned, resting his elbows on the table before him, leaning over to glare at the still snickering Ron. "Something funny, bastard?"

"Nothing…nothing," Ron gasped for air, his face red. "You looked so funny though!"

"Like a startled cat," Bill agreed, a wide grin splitting his face as Fleur chuckled beside him.

"Damn, ow, don't make fun of the cripple please." Harry begged, his hip tender to his touch as he poked it.

"Aw, that look like it hurts, Harry." A low voice suddenly whispered in his ear, causing him to start and back up against a hard chest.

"Did we hurt you, darling?" This time from the front, and the brunette's view caught sight of a grinning face before his head was held the other's shoulder.

"We're sorry, love." The man behind him purred, and Harry tried to pull away but was stopped by a strong hand as it started to massage his hip.

"We would never hurt you," The one in front had grabbed him by the back of the neck, whispering into his ear, and Harry shivered at his tone. "Unless you wanted us to."

"Which would be an entirely different story, right George?" Merlin, wait, what!?

"Quite so, Fred." George let Harry lean back slightly, and emerald eyes wide with shock at the sight of the Twin-In-Front's lust darkened eyes. "Would you like us to?"

"Wha-?" Harry felt quite stupid as Fred continued to massage his waist, his hand slipping steadily lower, and all mental processes fled when George leaned down to lick at the trapped brunette's lips. A strangled moan released itself and George's smiled grew, and Fred's own grin could be felt as he pressed his lips to the column of Harry's throat.

"That sounds like a yes," Fred whispered, and the tremors that ran beneath Harry skin intensified, and God, they thought he was going to refuse his wet dream come to life?

George leaned down to press his forehead against Harry's and his sapphire eyes were as dark as onyx, and a hard kiss was all it took to obliterate any potential doubts that may have been left. He was not one to just jump in the sack with anyone, but based on George's leer and the lovely nothings Fred was whispering against his neck, there was nothing to be worried about; they would take care of him.

"Ready?" George's voice was pure sin, and Harry could barely nod before he was swept up between the two and dragged out of the kitchen, their clothes already being shed as they went.

Bill glanced over to Ron's pale face and opened jaw, to Fleur's bright flush and lustfully predatory look at the fleeing trio. He chuckled lowly in amusement.

"That's one way to join the family."

* * *

Bill's last line...why did you have to be so hard to write? Whatever. I hoped you liked it and, if you choose to do so, please review. Based on my average review intake and the fact that we have twenty chapters left, I believe this will end right around two hundred reviews. Let's set that as our goal everyone; so review please!

Oh, and though it is a contest and I really don't want to give myself more competition with the wonderful writers on this site, I have to tell anyone who doesn't know yet that the always excellent Kamerreon is hosting a contest for her birthday, so check it out (as well as her superb stories if you haven't already!) and drop her a birthday 'gift' for all her hard work.

Cheers!

Ariaeris~


	32. Accord 1: Imperfect Paradox

Good morning, afternoon, or evening everyone!

Apparently, people are not filled with a muderous rage thanks to my absence, though some were a bit upset at me (coughAbbycough), but I am still here with a brand new chapter just for you guys!

Before we begin though, I would just like to thank all of my reviewers, and those who have favorited this story or put it on their alerts. So, thank you so much.

And now, onto the first accord!

* * *

Viktor knew a lot about perfection.

After all, he had the perfect life. He was the perfect seeker for the best Quidditch team in Bulgaria, and he had help bring his nation to greater fame thanks to his efforts. He had the most perfect friends, people who supported him when need be, when they considered it to be necessary, and then flew away, flaunting their 'friendship' to him. He had the perfect family; a loving mother, a doting father, and a darling little sister, all of whom he loved as strongly as he felt possible without having his heart torn in two by being separated from them all year long.

His sister would be eleven now, ready to start school in a few weeks. He had barely seen her since she was born.

And he was to have the perfect wife, or at least he was until the gossiping paparazzi had caught wind of his sexuality from one of his closer 'friends.' Now he was to have the perfect _husband_.

Viktor did not consider perfection to be overrated though; he was arguably happy, and he felt joy unparalleled when he was able to send the money he made as an icon to the Quidditch world back to his family. They were the most important things in the world and if being a celebrity was what needed to be done to support them, then he would be glad to open his life to the public's prying eyes a thousand times over.

Still, as a celebrity, no one knew him. No one knew of the pride he took in his country, or how happy he had felt when he had helped to lead them to the Quidditch World Cup three years ago and the sadness he had felt when they had lost. No one knew of his love for reading and knowledge, and the rare times that he had met a peer that shared his love, he soon found himself torn from their side.

No one knew that he liked chocolate more than vanilla, lilies over roses, kept a diary by his bed at night, was not afraid to sing in the shower no matter how horrid he knew he was, or how he had always desired a son of his own to raise so that he could be whoever he wanted to be in this world…

No one wanted to know; they wanted a perfect man who was never tired, never weary, and never irritated at their constant nagging and complaining about why he wouldn't open up to them, the public, as if he owed them something, as if they had the _right_ to demand of him something.

Until him.

He was not perfect; he had perpetually messy hair that was not _sexily tousled_ as some said, but more like a bird's nest than anything else. He was irritable, quick to anger, absolutely blind without his glasses, and he had the worst sense of style ever found in mankind. He was imperfection in its epitome.

But he had also come up one day, one day filled with nothing but the horrendous over-inquisitive reporters hounding at his door step and disappointments as more of his private life became public news thanks to a leak suspiciously close to him that Viktor did not have the strength to deal with, and handed him a beautiful rose and an even more beautiful lily, and had asked him what his favorite color. So stunned by the other's daring he could do nothing but laugh and reply with a firm 'green,' and Harry's eyes might have glittered a bit extra just for him at that moment. And that had been the beginning of something that swept Viktor off his feet in an exhilarating way not unlike flying.

There was already gossip of the two, the hottest new pair in the world, Bulgaria's Most-Loved Quidditch Star and England's Boy-Who-Lived, and yet he could not bring himself to care.

He had found a new love in imperfection, and nothing could be more perfect than that.

* * *

For anyone wondering, the rose comments were taken from an article I read, which stated that Bulgaria were famous for their roses. Don't know how true it was, but I thought I'd put it in.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it, and don't forget to leave a review if you want to!

See ya later,

Ariaeris~


	33. Deviation 2: Like a Romance Novel

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

A warning; if you are in a good mood or want you Valentine's day to remain a cheerful, happy time, then I would advise you not to read this. It's kind of depressing and sad, but really, that's how I see the Severus/Harry relationship. Broken, one-sided, and doomed from the start.

Poor them.

Anyway, with that warning in mind, I hope you all enjoy this trip through the mind of one lovesick (and unintentionally suicidal) Severus Snape.

* * *

Sometimes the most bitter of hatreds can become the most exhilarating of romances, the most sweeping of passions that disregarded all forms of logicality in one wonderful, magnificent moment of pure exultation that brought together two antonymous people and joined them in a way that tore asunder all boundaries that once stood before their all consuming love.

Brought together by fate, by destiny, by chance, nothing could stand in the way of the divine providence that was _love_.

More often than not, this love was confined to the pages of sappy, ill-written romance novels, barely worth the title of trash, which could be found a dime a dozen is seedy shopping marts, mildly risqué photos setting the hearts of immature teenage girls and love-scorned older woman aflutter in a wave of unfounded and ridiculously emphasized passion.

Severus _hated_ romance novels.

In fact, he was quite happy to state that he despised not only all forms of romance, but all forms of human contact. He found the bonds that were forged and broken daily, the meaningless gossip and chatter, the unending stream of formalities quite aggravating, and he felt his life more peaceful (or at least more tolerable in the sense that he did not feel like shoving his stirring rod through his skull, or better yet, the skull of one of the dunderheads he was forced unwillingly to accept as a student in his God-forsaken excuse of an occupation) without them.

He had no interest in human contact; the world was a harsh mistress and an even stricter teacher, and he had learned quickly and efficiently that nothing but pain was to be derived from his fellow human beings. He much preferred the company of potions and poisons, and other various concoctions.

At least they didn't annoy him overly much (and if they did he could always throw his head back and take a hands-on approach to experimentation, though he found himself usually disappointed that he did not receive the results he quite often desired).

Severus was not a fool though, and he was not naive to the machinations of the heart, or the cruelty of the world. Though ironic, it came as no surprise to him when the source of all his ire (though not hatred, that was reserved for two men only and of course himself most of all) had wormed itself into his heart, and one day he had seen less of Lily's eyes and James' hair, but of Harry's heart.

Damnable love.

Still, he stood to the side, his mind consumed with ways to deaden his heart to the alien emotions this _child_ caused him to feel and his heart filling with dreams and fancies that distracted him, caused him to lose sight of his goals, caused him to desire to remain in this world and not flee to the depths of Hell he had set his destiny to, so long as he could remain at his side.

He waited though, too long, far too long, and it was only many years later that he met him once more. Voldemort gone, Dumbledore gone, a life of his own, and he wasted it on uncatchable visions of a ship not left port but never built in the first place. He was wrapped in the arms of another man, emerald eyes flashing in a complete sense of joy that was unmatched in beauty by anything else, and Severus could not muster the strength to be heartbroken.

It was simply not worth the effort, but in his heart of hearts, Severus knew that it was the only thing that truly was.

* * *

...I feel bad now. Poor Severus! Still, I can't help but feel torn over this; I truly don't believe that Severus could ever make Harry happy relationship wise (though unwilling allies is always an interesting aspect of their relationship) and yet now I feel bad for him for not only losing his first love, but his second one as well...

If this fic has touched you as well, or if you want to send poor Severus some e-love, then why not drop a review? Believe me, poor Snape needs all the help he can get...

Oh God, I've started talking of fictional characters as if they were real. Fanfiction has ruined me, corrupted me. It's a good kind of corruption though, no?

Anyway, enjoy your Valentine's day everyone!

Ariaeris~

Ps: For everyone who reviewed last chapter, I'm sorry I didn't reply; my computer was acting weird and it would not let me. I would like to thank everyone though, and to the wonderful Ms. Morgan, I say in gratitude, "YES!"


	34. Accord 2: Perplexing Proposal

This drabble...turned out so weirdly. I, I don't even know what came over me. I wanted to write some Lucius/Harry angst after seeing the low amount of votes Lucius had gotten on my poll (only two, people? I though one of the only Slytherins would have gotten more than that!), but instead I got this...I don't even know what to call it.

Hopefully some of you out there will enjoy this, but maybe you all will agree with me on how ridiculous this drabble is.

I apologize in advance for the lower quality of this drabble compared to my more recent ones - I couldn't think of anything else to do for Lucius/Harry after this demonic plot bunny was spawned.

Forgive me.

* * *

Everything was breaking, shattering around them. Their future was to be bright, prosperous, and fertile and, as it was a specter before his eyes, Lucius could almost see every one of his dreams for his future, for his beloved family's future, disappear before his very eyes. Narcissa was paler than usual beside him, but she remained composed, the only sign of her worry the tremors that shook her hands as she tried to smooth back her hair. Draco, poor Draco, was trembling, his hands clenched in his lap and blood running down his chin from where he had bit straight through his lip, thoroughly frightened from what he perceived to be the accusing stares of the other occupants of the Great Hall .

He could offer them no solace; what comfort could he grant them when he himself held no hope for the future? Voldemort had ruined them; their reputation was beyond saving, their fortune practically non-existent, that God-forsake half-blood having drained them dry financing his idiotic campaign (and if only he had been blessed with the wisdom to realize that he was on the losing side from the beginning, because no matter how trite it sounded, the bad guys _always_ lost), and he would not be surprised if the moment the Ministry regained its footing, they were to be the first to be arrested for aiding the Dark Lord.

There had been very few times when Lucius had truly been afraid; once when facing Voldemort's full wrath, another time when he had been witness to Dumbledore's true strength, and now when he was faced with the consequences with his foolish actions. This was beyond him. Every action he had ever taken had been for his family; not for the Malfoy name, but for his beloved Narcissa and his darling Draco whom he loved with all his heart. And now…now they would be found at fault for his actions. They would be punished, damned because of him, because of _his _idiocy.

A fragile hand covered his own, and Lucius started, something he had never done before but he supposed he could be forgiven this once (his world was crumbling to ash before him after all), and he met Narcissa's solemn gaze.

"Relax, my love. He will not let us fall." She said softly, her eyes flicking to the side briefly. Lucius looked in the direction she indicated, and his body tensed automatically as Potter, the new Savior of the Wizarding World, meandered over to their side.

"Good evening Mr. Malfoy, Narcissa." Harry smiled briefly at her, and Lucius was momentarily dumbfounded at the incongruous action. Was this what Narcissa was talking about?

The brunette reached into his robe and handed a roll of parchment to Narcissa. "As you know, Kingsley is the acting Minister of Magic at the moment and, though it took a bit of wheedling, I obtained what you requested. I also agree with you that this would be the best course of action; this would serve as a barrier to the world's ire towards you and your family; after all, who better to be your caretaker than the Icon of Light?" Potter's tone seemed almost bitter, and Lucius was shocked at the enraged and disappointed look he cast over his shoulder. "It will dissuade any uprisings against me as well…or at least it will for the time being."

"Thank you Harry." Narcissa whispered, taking the offered scroll and clutching it in her lap. "Where should we next meet?"

"Godric's Hollow. I will see you there Narcissa." With a quick nod to Lucius and the dumbfounded Draco, Harry swept out of the hall, swiftly avoiding some of his more ravenous fans.

"What?" Lucius muttered, before Narcissa's quiet giggling drew his attention. "What was that, Narcissa?"

"I have taken lengths to protect our family, just like you, though I do believe that my actions will prove to be more profitable." Narcissa smirked. "Lucius, Draco," She ordered, rising with a regality that Lucius had not seen in many a month. "Come. We have to meet our new husband and you Draco, your new father."

Lucius and Draco looked at each other for a moment, completely poleaxed, before Narcissa waved the scroll she had been given by Harry in front of their faces. A binding marriage contract. Two binding marriage contracts.

Lucius and Draco rose silently and left the Great Hall with a widely grinning Narcissa. They had many questions, but they would have to be answered later. After all, they would most likely not be happy with Narcissa's answers, but even though they were defamed, Lucius would be damned before he allowed himself to throw the inevitable temper tantrum that even now crept upon him in the presence of commoners.

* * *

...At least I finally got that Narcissa/Harry urge out of me. It'll be back soon though. God, I'm actually going to write a het fic at this rate, or at least continue this in a longer fic, just for shits and giggles. At least it will be fun to write; Narcissa/Harry for the win!

Again, sorry for unleashing this mess of a drabble on the world. I assure you; tomorrow's deviation will be much better (and quite a bit more insane).

Until then,

Ariaeris~


	35. Deviation 3: Crazy

I promised a bit of insanity yesterday, and oh how I will deliver on that promise. This is my first attempt at a stream of consciousness fic; for those who do not know, a stream of consciousness is a very hard thing to define. An experiment would provide a better example; move away from your computer if possible for two or three minutes and then think of your favorite movie.

Back yet? What were you thinking of after that time had elapsed? Most likely, you were thinking of something different, through probably related in some way, obscure or not, to what you originally began thinking of. Pretty odd right, how you can go from one subject to another in such a short time right?

Anyway, that's what this fic is supposed to be; the stream of consciousness of one very, _very_ insane man.

_Enjoy~_

* * *

What matters most in this world is power; power leads to happiness, the human telos. Power protects you from pain, numbs fear, and relieves heartache. Power separates the strong from the weak, the leader from the pack, the shepherd from the flock. Power does not discriminate, is not fickle like luck or fate; power is eternal and unchanging, the single most powerful drive since the beginning of time.

Power is such a wondrous thing; it is as a drug is to addict. Necessary, obligatory, meaningful. Everyone has power, but so few know of it, let alone know how to harness it to achieve what they wish. Pride or morals or some other negligible human standard might persuade them to think otherwise, but humanity is nothing but a brawl between sinners, the lowliest of lowly things. Only those who welcomed power, embraced it, rose above and became something from nothing.

Something.

Nothing.

Something.

He had achieved that status; he had wallowed in the filth that was humanity for so very long, too long, but he had prevailed. He was now _existing_. And it was all thanks to the sable-haired savior who had risen beside him.

That man had seen everything through his jaded emerald eyes; saw the dredges of reality, interacted with the most revolting of beings that dared call themselves their equals. He hated them. He hated them. They hated them.

They had ascended, side by side, both souls as dark as coal and disinterested eyes, green and red (and weren't those supposed to be merry colors?), would watch as the world burned underfoot. As it was cleansed.

Catharsis. Purification through emotional release. Domination. To control something entirely. Resurrection. Rebirth. Reborn. Ashes, ashes, the world falls down.

He was the shepherd of the world, and the filth that wallowed and rotted and died in their own failure and shattered dreams would realize that. They must. For he was the performer of miracles, and his greatest act was the staff with which he would herd his flock.

Green, green, absinthe eyes and cherry red lips that would never tell him lies.

In death, there is but power; nothing more, nothing less…

Why wait for death though! Why not have it all now? The rest of the world can realize what they had and what they lost with their petty little morals and their good pure hearts. And then, with those who would survive (for their would be some; there always were and didn't it sound like they were the roaches and the rats that he had killed for the thrill when he was a child?) and they would hide (like rats in the sewers and the shit, and didn't his little amante love hunting rats?) and they would desire it.

Desire power.

Power.

The root of all great things and weren't things just the grandest? He pulled his partner down onto his lap and kissed him with all of his hate, nearly biting through the other's tongue and he relished the blood he nursed from the other's mouth. His crimson eyes raked over the younger' body, his desire growing with every unspeakable deformity that lingered on his beauty.

They were both twisted beyond compare; words could not describe their hideousness, but maniacal laughter richly dipped in insanity seemed appropriate, so he indulged himself.

Let the world burn, the people scream and beg for the mercy they did not deserve. He had found power. Living power.

He was content.

* * *

This was far more fun than it should have been, though it is a little disturbing looking back on it. Trying to imagine yourself as a character as insane as Voldemort, trying to imagine what their broken, sociopathic thoughts would be like; it's actually really weird now that I think of it.

Maybe you all enjoyed it though. Who knows? Well, maybe I might catch a glimpse of _your_ thoughts if you left me a review...

Ariaeris~


	36. Deviation 4: Imaginary Love

I wanted to post the next chapters in order from deviation to accord, but I didn't want to keep you all waiting, so I thought I'd post this instead of an accord.

This drabble was inspired by my recent reading of Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë, as shown by the quote preluding the actual drabble and the final line - both are spoken by the main female character, Catherine Earnshaw, the first character in all of literature that I am actually disgusted of to the point of fascinated revulsion. Of course, I hated Umbitch as much as the rest of us, and though quite a few people don't share this opinion, I find Draco Malfoy revolting as well (as you will shortly see).

Catherine though...the entire novel is pretty screwed up, as anyone who has read it has can tell you, but in a fascinating way. Catherine though, is infantile, her love for Heathcliff is beyond unnatural in the sense that it is corrosive and destructive for all parties involved, and just might be damned from the beginning, and she takes no care to how she casually hurts people (she publicly humiliates Heathcliff to his face, calling upon many of his bad habits directly to him, though Heathcliff is not in denial enough to refute her legitimate claims). She refuses to marry Heathcliff, who she states "my love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath" in contrast with her statement earlier that her love for her suitor, Edward, is ultimately fleeting, on the grounds that it would demean her to marry someone beneath her. And this comes after she states the infamous line "I am Heathcliff," calling herself as much a part of Heathcliff as Heathcliff himself, in the same way that an infant can't distinguish itself from its mother and see them as a single entity (the Imaginary, which is where the title of this came from).

And it's _fascinating_.

So, calling upon the emotions that Catherine caused in me to swell, I present to you, Draco Malfoy, as abhorrent as I truly believe he is.

* * *

"_Well, if I cannot keep Heathcliff for my friend – if Edgar will be mean and jealous, I'll try to break their hearts by breaking my own."_

_Catherine Earnshaw, __Wuthering Heights__, Emily Brontë_

* * *

Harry's petition for a divorce did not come so mush as a surprise to Draco because of its placement but in its timing. He had been entertaining Theodore in the parlor, laughing with his childhood friend over the most humorous of things, enthralled by the other's yarns and tales. Theodore had always been his favorite, and Draco had kept him close over the years, always by his side until gossip and mutterings over the nature of their relationship followed them wherever they went.

Draco had no desire for the daily trash of plebeians, and so he turned his ear away, ignoring the mongrels who dared to speak ill of him with a dangerous sort of naïveté. And if the two friends' lips brushed every once in a long while, or if hands wandered to places not usually touched, then who was right to disparage him? The two had been friends for quite a long time; some things are best shared with people like that, people close enough to your heart that it raced at their sight.

Harry did the same thing to his heart, set it into frittering little palpitations, but that did not excuse the boor for interrupting him during his time with Theodore. The uncouth brunette had been pleading with Draco for a long while now to break off his friendship with Theodore, the fool that he was. Then again, Theodore had asked the same thing of Harry, and Draco almost pouted at the idiocy the two leading men in his life showed when confronted with the other.

Couldn't they both just love him? So many problems could be solved so easily if they, like the rest of the world, just accepted their love for him. At least he wouldn't have to deal with their infantile griping.

Still, the emerald-eyed brunette had divorced him with minimal resistance on Draco's part, and though he had wept for many a day over their broken relationship, resisting even the comfort extended to him by Theodore, he had come up with the most brilliant of ideas.

Harry could never stand the sight of him in pain, and neither could Theodore. So, it would make sense that the thing that could bring the two together in their mutual love for him would be his own suffering.

They didn't come; Theodore had in the beginning, but one day he had said that he could not stand the sight of Draco wasting himself away to nothingness and left, and had not returned. Draco cursed him to damnation only to praise him in the next breath; how strong his Theodore was to resist him so long, but he would be back soon, unable to stand their separation.

And how much stronger Harry was compared to Theodore! Draco had heard the whisperings of the gossips that he had gotten together with the Zabini heir, yet another man of Herculean strength that he might love greater than Harry, for he had resisted him for years at this point. Still, in the end, the two, along with Theodore, would come back to him, whispered exultations and pleas for forgiveness heavy on their breaths.

It would be lovely.

Until then, he would wait, solemnly and silently, for those who loved him to return to his side; they would not be able to resist their own hearts.

After all, 'though everyone hated and despised each other, they could not avoid loving me.'

* * *

Although it is a little late, you can totally ignore that huge wall of text at the beginning of this chapter. It is just that I am writing a paper on how human nature is presented in Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre (by two of the Brontë sisters, and incredibly fascinating reads), and I kind of went off on a tangent describing a part of my thesis.

Um, whoops?

If you liked this drabble though, please don't hesitate to review. You will, after all, get instantly into my good books. And that's a good thing, despite what some people say.

Wish me luck on my paper. I'll need it.

Ariaeris~

Ps: Whoa, I ranted. O.O


	37. Accord 3: Bliss

Happy Snow Day everyone! For those of you who still have to go to school because of a lack of snow though, I laugh at you. Ha.

Free time is always great for inspiration, and I was actually found my inspiration for this drabble from a fic I was reading here at fanfic. I was just minding my own business, reveling over how awesome Edward Cullen/Harry is despite the fact that I hate Twilight, when I found this fic from a new-time author (or one who was close to that). It was a good story, a few problems here and there, but then I reached one of my biggest pet peeves ever in writing, especially for authors who just started writing seriously.

The Angst Chapter; the one chapter where all of the characters horrifically abused pasts are revealed bluntly and clichely with little warning. Otherwise known as TMA for me; Too Much Angst.

So I decided to write something fluffy in my depressed state of mind, and who better to be fluffy with Harry than his giant Scottish puppy-person (don't argue this fact with me; I always win in stupid arguments – I have more experience with stupidity)?

So enjoy some mind-rotting fluff.

* * *

The steady sound of a knife hitting a chopping block created a smooth rhythm that lulled the senses, though Oliver made sure to keep his wits about him; he didn't want another trip to St. Mungo's with a frantic Harry screaming about sliced off fingers and bleeding to death, and of all things, dragon pox when he all he had done was nick his finger on a dull blade. Then again, Harry was over-protective in the extreme; he said it was his prerogative being the savior of the entire Magical realm, but most (read: Oliver) thought he just found some perverse enjoyment out of taunting others.

It was his inner-Slytherin, which had flourished following the final defeat of Voldemort five years ago. Oliver was still trying to decide if that was a good thing or not.

Harry was manipulative these days, always doing whatever he though necessary to get what he wanted. Just two months past, he had been caught riding his broom while ill, and though Oliver could understand the obsession with flying, he knew that Harry need to learn a lesson about going out in gale force winds and freezing rain shirtless while sick with pneumonia.

So he cockblocked him.

Not his greatest idea ever because, while Harry was faithful, he always got what he wanted and he had received more sex then he could handle when Oliver caught him taunting him by dancing with two other guys. Let it never be said that Oliver wasn't a possessive lover.

Oliver set his knife down with a sigh and a fond smile, streching his neck and bathing in the sunlight that streamed in from the kitchen window. He always got stuck with dinner duty despite the fact that Harry was the better cook and Oliver hated cooking. Harry said Oliver did it because he could never refuse him anything; Oliver said he cooked because Harry always let him top when he did so. Harry never disagreed.

Setting the chopped vegetables into whatever concoction Harry had whipped up earlier that could be radioactive poison for all he knew, Oliver followed the sound of piano playing, knowing that he would find his husband with his newest hobby at the source of the music.

And find him he did, though not as expected. Harry, face flushed, eyes wide and panting, his pale unclothed body draped over the grand piano playing by magic like some sinful little dancer, making Oliver instantly as hard as the emerald-eyed tempter obviously was.

Harry shifted, Oliver's lust darkened eyes following him, trailing over the body still covered in love bites from earlier today. Oliver licked his lips; his little lover was insatiable, but it was always fun to try and see if he could finally slake his raven's lust completely.

"Thirty minutes," Harry gasped, running a thin hand down his body, and Oliver strangled the moan rising in his throat. "Until the food has to come off. Think you can handle me?"

Not three seconds later, Oliver was by his side, stripping off his clothes with a wide grin and a tempting leer. "More than enough time," he murmured, meeting the younger's lips fiercely.

Harry grinned into the kiss, reaching down to grab his lover tightly. As always, he had gotten what he wanted.

* * *

Ah! The return of seductive Harry from the second chapter! He has snuck up on me!

...So this ended up more pervy than fluffy, but can you blame me? Harry, all pale and sinfully not-innocent, and Oliver with his Quidditch-hardened muscles and his lust-deepened brogue...Hmm, I should stop before things get out of hand.

What is going on with me and my drabbles finally earning their M-rating? First the Twins/Harry (Ms. Morgan, I'm holding you to that promised fic), and now Ollie/Harry...molestable Harry for the win?

Remember, review; each time you review a kitten is born. Or a puppy. Or a baby Ocelot. Your choice.

Ariaeris~


	38. Accord 4: The Consequence of Nerdiness

Who remembers Chapter 26, where I wrote my first tragedy/fic/drabble/thing? Well, I've started to look over all the chapters of this story and replace them with more cleaned up versions, and I stumbled over that chapter the other day during the process.

I felt bad for poor Remus and Harry, but I realized I had put a few lines in that chapter about Remus getting better over time thanks to Harry (until the eventual tragedy part).

So I decided to expand on that idea, and write yet another fluffy story, this time with Remus and Harry love.

Enjoy!

* * *

The quiet atmosphere of the library was broken jarringly as the clock hanging above the mantle piece struck, calling out the hour in a series of loud, low chimes. Remus who had been thoroughly engrossed in a treatise concerning the creation of a high-powered, matter-dispelling spell was startled by the reminder of the hour, his heart racing for the time it took for the clock to chime thrice.

The werewolf moaned, stretching his arms above his head. Three o' clock in the morning was not his ideal bedtime, but the theory behind such a spell had been fascinating, and he could not help but keep reading. Beside, he and Harry had been invited to join an experimental sector of magical experimentation located in Greece, and it would do well to keep up with the latest news in the magical development field.

Remus smiled fondly as he thought of Harry. His young lover had been persistent in winning his affection, asking him out on dates and trying to seduce him by many a means, eventually culminating in a staged duel to the death with Tonks upon the ramparts of Hogwarts.

Tonks won (she was an auror after all, and more highly trained despite her clumsiness), but Harry refuse to accept his loss seeing as how he had won Remus' heart anyway.

The werewolf never told him that he had had it in the first place, though the older man had enjoyed being, of all things, wooed for once.

So caught up with his reminiscing, Remus was caught unaware when he rather abruptly hit his bedroom door face-first. Rubbing his nose that was throbbing painfully, Remus carefully inched the door open, wary of making a single squeak. Merlin knows the last thing he wanted was a tired and irate Harry raining furious ire down from the heavens for making him sleep alone.

Instead, the sight that greeted him made him equally hard and amused. Harry, surrounded by a variety of toys, lubricants, and eating condiments, was sleeping peacefully in the center of the bed, wearing a pair of leather pants and a dog collar.

Surprisingly, Remus' affection won out over his lust, and he silently cooed over his adorable lover, chuckling to himself. Another failed attempt at seduction from Harry, though Remus glanced woefully at the more risqué items he moved from the bed to the floor. He had missed out on some sensual gratification in favor of educational stimulation.

Remus pouted, glad that Harry was asleep so he would not have to deal with Harry moaning over how cute Remus was; it seemed like he always got the short stick in life.

Still, he had been repaid for his bad luck in the form of an emerald-eyed husband who apparently was kinkier than he thought, which Remus had no problem with, even though he never seemed to be able to indulge in said lover.

Remus lay beside Harry, gathering him in his arms and resting the other's head against his chest. Harry would probably give him hell in the morning for leaving him alone, but that was alright. After all, he now had some new ideas for how to get Harry to stop bitching.

Or at least use him mouth for more mutually beneficial purposes.

* * *

Eep! I'm sorry; I so didn't mean for this to turn out this way, nor was it supposed to end like this. I wanted a cuddly Remus, not a slightly perverted, nerdy one. Even a possessive one would have been better, but knowing me, that probably would have had to be moved to AFF lest I be turned in to the moderators for putting hard core porn on this site.

...I'm so sorry. Everything has become so sexual in the most recent chapters; does anyone mind?

In any case, maybe next chapter won't be so perverted. Or maybe it will be more. Will that be worse...or better?

Leave me a review with your opinion; should I break the no-sex barrier which I have been toeing with for the last few chapters, or should I keep it all strictly implied? I'd only do it once, but this story is all about experimentation...

Ariaeris~

Ps: This drabble is an alternate continuity compared with chapter 26; that drabble is not connected with this one, so no future-angst. I wanted at least one drabble with them being totally happy together and couple-like for once.


	39. Accord 5: Fidelity to Desire

I'm not dead! Just swamped down by school work by the bucket-loads and a very persistent plot-bunny that will not leave me alone until I write it. Which is bad, because it is a very large plot-bunny. It's like, up to my waist already.

It showed me some mercy though, and I managed to scramble this piece together. Hopefully it will be satisfactory for those who have been waiting for this chapter.

Enjoy!

* * *

Every day, people declared to the world without shame what their personal preferences were on every subject imaginable. Who their favorite band was, how they liked their coffee, how much they hated their jobs. There was a common presence in each of their streams of thought though, a strand of knowledge, an ever-present idea that shaped each person's opinion of a subject intentionally or not.

Desire.

Someone's band was their favorite because they found something pleasing about the singer's voice. The shop where one buys their coffee every day can be well liked because of the company found there, or the handsome cashier that greeted them every day with a smile. And a horrible job can be worth sticking with if one's boss is good enough eye candy.

For a long time Harry had found such easily malleable opinions to be pathetic. Would you stop listening to your favorite group if the main vocalist got married? Should you never go and get a cup of coffee if the cashier did not greet you with a blinding smile? And why would anyone remain at a job they abhorred just to ogle a single person who probably didn't even know you existed?

That is why he continued to listen to Celestina Warbeck on the radio after she got hitched, though he would admit when pressed that at the tender age of twelve, it was a tiny bit heartbreaking to not feel like you were the subject of the "Singing Sorceress'" love songs.

And that is why he gave up his internship at the prestigious Malfoy fashion industry corporation just a few months back. The Malfoys were physically beautiful, there was no denying that, and Lucius and Narcissa had caught his eye; but he had refused to act on his crushes even after they propositioned him. Instead, he had left and never looked back once; 'beauty is skin deep' was never better personified than in that family, and he would not promise his heart away to ones unworthy of it.

Desire influenced thoughts and opinions and emotions, and Harry was proud to say that he lived above the temptation of desire, letting the love in his heart and the mind he was gifted with guide him inexorably towards happiness.

So when he first saw glittering grey eyes meet his own and his heart first leapt at the sight of the dirty-blond's heartbreaking smile, he refused to lie to himself. And when he had greeted him for the first time and received a warm, strong handshake in return, he opened his heart to new possibilities. And when he had exchanged names with the other and his cheeks had flushed when red-chapped lips had whispered his name, he knew there was nothing to be afraid of.

His heart had led him to the conclusion of this life and the birth of his next. All the times he had lived in solitude and silence with his heart and his dreams and his love as his only companions were now filled with warmth and love and happiness unmatched.

Love manifest – Cedric, and even now his cheeks warmed in love at the name, was the goal he had been lead to, the inevitable conclusion of a lifetime of searching, the reward for years of fidelity to his heart alone.

His heart's desire.

* * *

Cedric/Harry, why do you have to be so beautiful?

Reviews are well-loved and usually replied to (sorry for everyone I didn't thank last chapter - lack of free time to even check my e-mail some days), so please click the pretty green button thing below if you want to be the object of my ever-lasting idolization.

Ariaeris~


	40. Accord 6: Visible Love

Well, hello everyone! This chapter is a little late, but as always, school is the perfect excuse. Focusing on my studies, preparing my term paper, studying for upcoming tests, et cetera. Though now I have proof! /hugs 3.77 GPA proudly/

Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter (sorry I didn't reply!), and thank you for everyone who added my stories to their story-alert list, including _The Plot Bunny Whisperer_ _/squees/_.

In any case, enjoy the chapter and hopefully I will have another one up soon. And, considering this is the fortieth chapter out of fifty-one (10 more plus the final one), I am determined to have this story finished by the end of April/early May. April is always an inspirational month for me (vacations and days off, as well as my birthday) and hopefully that trend will empower me to drive through the rest of these drabbles.

I'm getting off topic though; just read and enjoy, already!

* * *

The constant low clamor of the Hospital Wing and the hum of a number of voices just barely within his hearing range lulled Harry back into consciousness, the brunette shifting on the uncomfortable-as-always bed of the Hospital Wing. Crystal green eyes fluttered open, a hand moving instinctively to grope for his glasses that lay on his bedside table, but a large, rough hand caught his own before it reached its destination.

The young brunette moaned softly, calling out for his lover, eyes widening in slight fear.

"Bill?" The redhead lifted Harry's hand to his mouth, kissing each knuckle softly.

"I'm right here, love," Bill whispered, and Harry could feel the other's stubble as his hand was rubbed against Bill's cheek. Harry briefly wondered if Bill was trying to comfort him or himself.

"…Why can't I see?" Harry asked after a long stretch of silence, and he gasped as Bill's grip on his hand tightened suddenly.

"Madame Pomfrey hypothesized that there might have been a magical backlash following You – Voldemort's destruction, but it is just as likely that some random Death Eater got in a lucky shot in the ensuing confusion," Bill murmured, rubbing Harry's hand apologetically.

"He's gone?" Harry asked, and Bill almost smiled; it was typical of Harry to think of others before himself. Harry seemed to realize the same thing, and the brunette blushed faintly. "And my eyes; how are they?"

"Yeah, he's gone," Bill chuckled, but his laughter was hollow and stopped immediately after starting. "As for your eyes, they're as beautiful as ever," Harry glared as well as a blind man could, and Bill could almost feel a little bit of his heart breaking at that thought. "Madame Pomfrey thinks that…this might be permanent."

Harry sighed, relaxing as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, as if some invisible burden had been lifted. Bill continued talking incessantly, a bad nervous habit that he had since he was a kid that he thought he had grown out of.

"You don't have to worry about anything though, love; Mum is already researching some foreign medical practices that specialize with dark-magic ailments, and if this really is just a side effect of Voldemort's destruction, then it might just pass over time without interference. And even if this is permanent, I don't want you thinking that anything will change. I will always be here for you, and you won't ever have to worry about that changing, because I love you and you supported me after I got my scars, and I can't even _imagine_ leaving you because I love you so much, and -"

Soft lips met his own, silencing him and, for a blind man, Harry did a damn good job staring into his eyes as they kissed. The brunette pulled back, breaking the kiss gently, smiling with breath-taking happiness. "I know, Bill," he whispered, reaching out to run a finger down his lover's cheek, and Bill helped guide the hand with his own. "I never doubted you; I love _you_ too much to ever do so."

* * *

Aww, damaged Bill and Harry and far too much loving fluff for this situation. I missed just pure fluff; my new story is still in the awkward/not-yet-admitted love stage, and it's hard to keep me from just smashing the characters together and throwing them in a dark closet. So I got my love/fluff need out in this chapter, and for the dark-closet need, well, maybe that will taken care of next chapter.

/evil grin/

Ariaeris~

Ps: Maybe it's just me, but does anyone else not like the new changes on this site? I keep looking in the wrong places to see if a story is completed, my story-alert e-mails always look so odd and, though I think that it is cool that we have a seperate crossover section finally, the very idea of it seems so _odd_. For an Obama supporter, _I don't like change!_


	41. Deviation 5: SMUT! No, really!

*blushes*

* * *

Harry groaned lowly as he was slammed against a hard, muscular chest, a burning hot mouth attaching itself to his neck. Strong, calloused hands gripped his bare waist, guiding him to rest between the other's legs, the man behind him nipping a trail down the brunette's spine.

The man attached to his neck dragged his lips from Harry's throat, grabbing the back of the brunette's head and pulling him in for a bruising kiss. Tongues clashed and Harry submitted readily, allowing the other into his mouth, the man's blue-almost-black lust-darkened eyes locking with his own hazy green ones. Harry shivered, and Bill smiled darkly as he ran his eyes over his captive's body.

"Beautiful little tease," Bill hissed, diving in for another kiss, and Charlie hummed his agreement somewhere around Harry's hip. Harry moaned and slipped a pale hand under Bill's shirt, brushing across his muscular stomach. Bill kissed him harder before sinking to his knees, and Harry had to look away as the eldest redhead took him into his mouth, fireworks going off behind his closed eyes.

A low chuckle brought him back to a semblance of reality, and Harry titled his head to allow Charlie to kiss a trail down his chin. The elder man paused, tangling his fingers in his brother's long crimson hair as he watched him suck Harry off, before licking a long stripe back up Harry's cheek.

"Watch him," Charlie ordered, pressing a finger into him, and Harry's foggy mind briefly wondered when he had gotten lube. Harry shook his head with a soft keen, dispelling his thoughts as he refused his fierce lover, and Charlie bit his ear harshly. Blood trickled down his neck softly as Charlie grabbed the back of his head and thrust it down, forcing him to watch Bill's bobbing head as a second finger pushed inside him.

Charlie sat down on their bed as he carefully scissored his fingers, sitting Harry in his lap, his thick erection pressing into the brunette's back. Bill moved with them, never releasing Harry from his mouth, and Harry gasped as Charlie's invading fingers suddenly struck his prostate. Bill hummed around him, and Harry nearly sobbed as Charlie thrust in a third finger.

Seeing his youngest lover overloading with pleasure, Bill slowly released Harry, reaching up to pull him in for a kiss. Delirious with pleasure, Harry couldn't refuse him, and Bill chuckled as he broke the kiss, licking Harry's still bleeding ear. He blew softly on the bite mark before whispering softly in Harry's ear. "Don't come until we tell you."

The order rang through Harry's disorientated mind, and Harry couldn't stifle a gasp as he felt Charlie shift behind him, a new blunter pressure pushing against him. Bill reached behind him and tangled his fingers in Charlie's shorter hair, the two brothers kissing forcefully.

Charlie pushed his hips forwards slightly, and Harry winced as he felt the head of Charlie's cock slowly stretch his opening. Charlie nudged Harry's forehead with his own as Bill sunk back to his knees, smirking as he bit Harry's collarbone. "Ready?"

Harry didn't know, and soon all was lost in a blur of pleasure and pain.

* * *

*blushes*

...Please forgive me. *Whimper* I didn't mean to write this...

Too Ashamed To Sign Off~

Ps: Plzdon'thateme. Orreportme.


	42. Deviation 6: FLUFF! No, really!

Following that apparently successful detour into smutville, we have returned to fluff-land. No, there will be no more lemons/limes/various fruits in this series any more (or at least, none are planned).

This drabble is dedicated to Abby, my oldestest and bestestest interwebz-friend ever, greatest enough to surpass all forms of English grammar.

This is not one of those coquettish drabbles where the identity of Harry's suitor is only revealed after subtle hints and coy teasing. This is Marcus Flint/Harry Potter. It says so clearly on my profile and it says so before the first sentence is even finished. Considering this, I am well aware that this will never rank up with Bittersweet Alias' Incorrigible Infatuation, which is at the moment far beyond my writing ability to duplicate.

So this is in no way a serious drabble. No, in fact, it is an early deconstruction of the Marcus/Harry pairing long before it ever hit its popularity boom (which I most firmly believe it will some day). So when everyone is copying Alias' and Ashvarden's fics (I recommend both as good reads) and start making their relationship all angsty and stuff (more so than it already would be), I will be able to sit back on my laurels and laugh my head off, quite content with my bastardly little creation.

On a side note, I have nicknamed this pairing MA-HA, for my inability to type MArcus/HArry in any way but that thanks to a shitty shift key unless I go back for revisions.

And yes, Kamerreon if you so happen to be reading this (which I doubt you are), that is a friendly snipe against your inability to stop referencing Harley. It's all in good fun though, so please don't sic your numerous fans on me.

* * *

Although he had often been threatened with a room at St. Mungo's psychiatric ward for his declarations, Harry refused against all protestation to recant his belief that Marcus was the sole human/teddy-bear mixed breed left on earth. True, it was a fairly unusual theory, but Harry fully believed that since nothing in his life was ever even close enough to be compared to normal, it was perfectly sane to believe his lover was something more than human.

Much to the chagrin of his dissuaders (which consisted of friends, family, and everyone else in the whole world and their mothers) Harry managed to subvert two of the fundamental rules of magic during the course of his vendetta against his well-wishers and to try and prove his point, introducing the various members of the Wizarding World to both the "power-point" and the semi-automatic rifle. Oftentimes simultaneously.

Still, worried for their Savior's obviously shattered sanity, the general public decided one day that they knew best on how Harry's life should be lead. Which included marrying Ginny (despite her exclamations that she was perfectly happy with Luna, and if you would be so kind, please fuck off, because she was more than happy for Harry as well) having two to three children (again despite the fact that Harry and Marcus had already adopted a young girl, who most assuredly had only three non-hyphenated names and was not a black-belt ninja-in-training at the age of three) and becoming an auror (despite the fact that Harry was quite content as a part-time Healer, full-time Daddy, and a proficient philanthropist when it came to building orphanages).

The public was in denial of Harry's happy state of mind rivaling Harry's following Sirius' drapery-related death. Then again, Sirius had popped out of said curtain one day in response to one of Harry's more ardent fans deciding that he could win Harry's heart by attempting to steal his body. Apparently, destroying his godson's harasser was more than enough reason to give Death a big middle-finger as Sirius had so dramatically put it (along with a quite vivid description of how he had fought off the forces of hell with only some rebellious curtains on his side).

Sirius would never admit it though, but he had almost run back to "hell" with his metaphorical tail between his legs at the sight of a nervous Marcus restraining a furious Harry from obliterating the poor fucker's testicles by way of a stiletto-heeled shoe.

Harry wasn't a naturally violent person (that was left to Hermione, whose fist had become intimately acquainted with the noses of at least half of Magical Europe in her campaign for Harry and Marcus Saving, affectionately titled HAMS) but if a hand other than Marcus' came anywhere near his ass, then you were _dead_.

Not that Harry was the only one who had his expressive moments in their relationship; there was a reason why everyone wanted to separate the loving couple that did not involve jealousy after all. Following his whole "I'm not worthy, why are you with me?" stage, Marcus had become, well, not possessive because he had always been that, but more…apt to show his affection for Harry.

Publicly. In a number of ways. Smexy ways.

Still, Harry remained convinced that Marcus was the remnants of a teddy-bear race long since passed, and with Luna as his corroborator and the Potter fortune paving his way, Harry stormed his way into the Ministry of Magic one day. Shortly after, he skipped right back out with a ministerial decree that Marcus was the sole remaining member of an extremely endangered race and an order to help repopulate the world with cuddlepeople.

Which was largely unsuccessful until Snape's development of a Male Pregnancy poem, though Marcus was in no way adverse towards being a law-abiding citizen (at least when it came to that demand), which almost made up for the humiliating name his race had been deigned with.

And Harry was content as well, Marcus' post-coital snuggling only cementing in his mind that he had managed to rope the sexiest teddy-bear out there as his husband.

* * *

I laugh in the face of those who take this fic seriously.

Review, love me, blah blah blah.

Ariaeris~


	43. Deviation 7: Mostly HET! No, really!

Le GASP!! It is true; Ariaeris has written het! The very fabric of space and time is corroding as we speak!

Dramatics aside, I hope jpillmouse (or whatever your name is now) doesn't mind that I devoted more time to Hermione looking at all the hot boys smexing each other up than on the actual Draco/Hermione. Just kidding! The boys aren't smexing each other up (as far as you can see). There are hints of one of my OT4s though.

In any case, I find the need to plug my new fic irrepressible. Snowballing from my Marcus/Harry drabble and a discussion with the ever lovely vairetwilight, I have begun a multi-chaptered expansion on a gift-fic Vaire gave me for my birthday, which has the pairing M-WA-HA (wanna know what it is? The check out the fic!). I advise you to read it because it is well-written and quite entertaining, though you may need the brain bleach she offers at the end of the story. I personally didn't, finding the story hot more than anything else, but to each his own.

Summary: Read this fic, enjoy it, review, go to Vaire's profile, read her new story, review that, read the beginning to my new story, and finally review that one as well.

Got that, lovelies?

Good. Now, forward march!

* * *

Hermione leaned back, letting Draco's soft hands massage away the tension in her shoulders. They had finally done it. Their little group had friends had finally completed what Hermione considered the greatest task of their lives, nay their very existences!

They had finally graduated Hogwarts.

It had taken weeks of worried studying (mostly by Hermione), days of frantic schedule preparing (by Hermione), long nights of relentless cramming (Hermione again), and days of psyche-shattering paranoia over their finals (Hermione once more), but they had all managed to finally finish their tenure at Hogwarts School of Once-A-Year Life Threatening-ness. Though, if Hermione was to be truthful with herself, it hadn't really come as a surprise that they all had little difficulty in breezing through the final exams.

She had been a bit worried about Ron, but surprisingly, Pansy had made herself useful for once and shoved a book in front of the youngest Weasley male's face every once in awhile. Or at least she was when she wasn't shoving her tongue down Ron's throat.

As for Harry, he had his lover's support to fall back on in order to prepare for finals. Hermione drudged up the energy to crack an eyelid open, staring across the room to where Harry last was. True enough, the exhausted brunette had not moved, lying on Remus' chest and drawing little circles on the older man's chest through his open button up shirt. Sirius was leaning over the duo that lay on a couch, threading his fingers through Harry's lengthened hair, a soft look in his sterling silver eyes, and Hermione's breath caught at the sight. Every time she saw the three together she was reminded of how much they loved each other, and of the reward they had earned by fighting to stay together against God knows how many people balking at their relationship.

Hermione smiled softly, happy that Harry had earned his long sought after happiness. Even though it came at the happiness of other's; Hermione mustered the energy to tilt her head to glance over at Ron. Her other male best friend was talking with Bill and Ginny, who was intermittently rubbing her nose against Luna's neck, much to the blonde's amusement. Bill was shooting glances at Harry and his lovers with the most forlorn look Hermione had ever seen, and Hermione almost sighed before noticing that the trio was sending Bill discreet, wondering looks back.

Hermione almost groaned; yet another gorgeous man fell to Harry's charms. She would have to keep an eye on Harry's ever-growing harem. She wouldn't want them to steal her boyfriend away.

At that thought, Hermione glanced up, meeting Draco's soft grey eyes. Draco's petting halted as he stared at her with a gentle smiling, before his hands resumed their task.

"Draco?" Hermione asked softly, unwilling to break the tranquil air around the group. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Fred and George cuddling Neville to their chests, and she smiled, glad that another of her friends had found happiness.

"Yes, love?" Draco replied, kissing her temple.

"Promise me something," She asked, purring as the blond's skilled hands moved to scratch behind her ears. Damn cat animagus qualities rubbing off on her.

"Of course," Draco murmured.

"Never join Harry's harem of hotties, okay?" Hermione smirked, eyes shut as she prepared for the inevitable blow up.

"WHAT!?" Draco shouted, leaping to his feet, and Hermione cackled madly as she fell to the ground painfully. The rest of the group jumped at Draco's shout, and Hermione rolled on the floor laughing her ass off, thankful that the remnants of her exam fatigue had been eradicated.

Now she just had to sooth a few of her blond peacock's ruffled feathers…

* * *

I can't help but be pleased with this fic. Maybe it's the Sirius/Remus/Harry/Bill or maybe it's just the over-all fluffiness of it, but I love this deviation. I think it's my...third favorite (behind the two Weasley deviations and tied for third with the Marcus/Harry one).

I hope you enjoyed it too, and remember your task now: Vaire and I's fics need your support and love. And, in return, you'll get ours. It's a win-win situation.

So why are you still lingering here? Unless you're reviewing, which I doubt many of you are unfortunately because I'd love to hear what other people besides my Fabulous Five think of my story (Thank you Sparkly Red Slippers for taking the plunge and reviewing!), you should be going off to Vaire's profile.

So shoo!

Ariaeris~


	44. Accord 7: Better than Perfect

As some people may know, or if you remember from chapter 13, today is my birthday! Lucky me!

I actually came to the realization a few days ago that this fic is taking far too long to really finish, but then again, it is really fun to write! Nevertheless, the end is on the horizon; unless I'm mistaken, there are only six more chapters until the big reveal of who I consider to be Harry's Mr. Right!

So, as we come into the final stretch, I would like to thank all my lovely reviewers who have supported me through out this fic. The testament to your loyalty is the review count to this fic.

If possible though, could all you gracious readers grant me a lovely little birthday gift and take a second to write a review? It doesn't matter if you have written one before or not; I will treasure it any case. If not, than that is fine. I hope you enjoy this chapter (and the new chapter to Imperfect Heirs, and the new one shot for a new reviewer Kitsunekiri who asked for it - there are benefits to knowing me after all!). If you do so though, leave knowing that you have my most sincere thanks and gratitude (which you will receive in all of its mushy, review-reply format).

Thank you, and enjoy the chapter.

Until next we meet,

Ariaeris~

* * *

Buried with his head in his pillow, Harry was unaware of the lurking figure that snuck into his bedroom one early July morning. The specter alternatively snickered and smirked at the sight of the silently slumbering savior.

And then it conjured a large puddle of freezing cold water above him, relishing in the young brunette's shocked and outraged cries.

"What the f-" Harry exclaimed, his expletive silenced by a pair of soft lips descending upon his own. Recognizing Sirius' ever present stubble, Harry grasped him by the back of his head and drew him in for a deeper kiss.

"What was that for?" Harry asked after Sirius pulled back, the need for air more prevalent than his desire to continue the embrace, his face flushed in quite the delectable way if you asked Sirius. Or at least half of the Wizarding population.

Sirius smiled happily above him, nuzzling the side of Harry's face and kissing his cheek. "Happy Birthday."

Harry stared at him uncomprehendingly before sinking fully onto the bed with a low moan. He rubbed the wrists of his hands frantically into his eyes, trying to wake himself up from the horrible nightmare he had landed himself in.

Sirius gently nudged Harry's hands away from his eyes, kissing Harry's closed eyelids gently. An emerald eye cracked open and glared at Sirius mutinously. "I am not getting out of this bed today."

"What's wrong?" Harry turned away with a whimper he would later deny ever having released, and Sirius frowned at his lover's odd behavior. "Usually a 'Happy Birthday!' implies that you should be happy."

"How can I be?" Harry asked, Sirius' heavier body pinning him to the bed and not letting him bury himself under the covers like he wanted to. "It's my birthday; something life changing always happens on my birthday! Magic, my majority…us…"

"How is that a bad thing?" Sirius asked, lying fully on Harry and resting his head on the pillow beside his younger lover. "Changes mean that you can experience new things and grow as a person. Have more fun, and all that good stuff," Sirius kissed Harry shoulder. "How can that be wrong?"

"…I don't want anything to change," Harry confessed, brushing Sirius' long hair away from his face and staring into Sirius' eyes. "I do not want anything but this," Harry motioned between himself and Sirius. "To me, this is perfect."

Sirius gazed at Harry gently, and Harry almost believed that there were a few tears in his sterling silver eyes before Sirius blinked them away. Sirius leaned in, resting his forehead against Harry's, and kissed him lightly.

"I assure you, it is possible for the future to be even more perfect than it is now," Sirius whispered in Harry's ear.

"Ignoring how grammatically incorrect that sentence is, tell me, how can anything be better than this?" Harry asked, kissing Sirius' stubbled cheek.

Sirius reached down and took Harry's hand in his own, kissing each knuckle individually before intertwining the other's fingers with his own.

"Marry me."


	45. Accord 8: Precipice

I know, I know; 'why haven't you updated in forever!?' I apologize, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart. If you want an excuse, the past two weeks or so was: when I had to pass in my term paper, the middle of my final school quarter, my extremely tiresome (yet rewarding) trip to New York, my birthday, my (late) Confirmation, at least six tests, and the end of my school-required sixty hours of community service.

Needless to say, I am bushed.

Still, I have this chapter for you, my loyal and loving readers. As some of you may notice, I have used my typical fic headings for this drabble (bold/italic, italic, quote), and that is because this is a serious candidate for being turned into a longer fic. As the quote, title, and chapter title probably reveal, I was inspired by the poem "The Second Coming" by William Butler Yeats, and so I wrote this drabble during my free period.

So, if you like the way this fic is written, review and tell me! I will see if I can expand on it a bit. Also, for everyone who wants a new chapter of Imperfect Heirs or A Moment of Mercy, those two will still be updated as well. Having a third fic will not slow me down overly much.

And no, I don't want any sarcastic comments about how I cannot slow down any more, thank you very much.

_

* * *

_

_**The Falcon Cannot Hear**_

_Chapter 1: The Falconer_

_And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, _

_Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?_

_-William Butler Yeats_

* * *

He stood before life and death.

Harry's eyes slowly trailed over the frothing masses of people before him, dull green eyes pausing as he saw a shadow of a familiar face. It had been so long since he had seen those he had called his friends, those he had called his family, that it seemed as if they were almost a dream. He hesitated briefly as his eyes met Remus', who was standing proud and tall for the first time in his life beside the Weasleys, who seemed equally as happy. Remus had been through so mush, seen so much…Harry hardened his heart. No doubts, no fears, no regrets; the first rules he had learned on the battlefield.

War was his master and his slave, his obsession that drew him away from the world around him. So much had been sacrificed to reach this point, but what point had they reached from their sacrifices? Was it all worth it? Was it worth it to continue on?

Harry sat, back ramrod straight, as Kingsley spoke to the war-ravaged crowd, assuring them of a time full on peace that was no longer far off in the horizon, but here before them. Kingsley, who had placed his trust and his life and his heart in Harry's hands. Another moment of weakness. He felt like he couldn't breathe.

Peace had fallen upon the Wizarding World thanks in no small part due to his own efforts; this peace was therefore a creation of his own. Therefore, wasn't it right to take back what he had created, to end what he had brought into the world if he so wished?

He wondered if this is what God felt as he watched the ticking of seconds pass by, unbearably slow and yet reassuringly inexorable.

His hands were sweating. Nervousness? Where had his resolve gone?

Many had tried to teach him what the difference between light and dark, good and evil, was in this world. Just as many others had tried to teach him about the grey areas in life, where morals were shaded, and the time and the place and the event all effected what was 'good.'

Harry did not believe in morals.

One teacher though had pierced his willful ignorance over the workings of the world, and taught him truth. Power, power enough to change and alter and shape to your design.

Tommy-boy had been such an inspiration. Perhaps he would cite him as a role model some day, the cynic in his mind whispered.

So. Power. He_ had_ created. The peace around his was his masterpiece, but it was the pinnacle of amateurs. So much more could be done, could? So much more _was_ to be done. That was why he was here - to change and alter and shape…

God grant him strength. He was weak-hearted and he did not know if he could stand before his chosen fate. Chosen, for the first time.

Kingsley was calling him up to the podium, to stand before the masses and preach the good news. Kingsley, brave and loyal and lion-hearted, had the thoughts that crossed my mind ever crossed yours, the child whispered, locked away in the depths of his mind.

His wand was in his hand, the Elder Wand, and a growing sense of dread crossed the eyes of those who knew what he held. An anticipatory breath was drawn, and all watched as their Creator and their Destroyer judged them and decided their fates.

He stood before them, life and death.

* * *

So, how was it? As you can see, this is a partial stream of consciousness fic, much like the Voldemort/Harry deviation a few chapters back, which explains why Harry's thoughts are so fragmented.

Do you think Harry went with his plan (and who thinks they know what the plan is?) or do you think Harry chickened out? What do you think Harry wants from the world, and why would go to lengths such as these to gets what he wants? Who wants me to expand on this and write a short chaptered story revolving around this idea? Who just wants me to stop talking?

Review, and tell me! I cannot improve without your feedback, and as many of you know by know, I am ready willing and able to give out gift fics in order to win your love! So, for all you know, the two minutes it takes you to write a review might end with you getting a fic of your choosing (pairing, plot, et cetera)!

Until next chapter,

Ariaeris~


	46. Deviation 8: End of the Beginning

Ah, everything is nearing the end. The forty-sixth chapter; can you believe it? I've been working on this fic for so long that it's feels almost tragic that it is coming, slowly but surely, to a close.

Still, I am happy as well. This series has helped spread my wings. I have my new fics out on the market, and a few of them are even moderately successful. New friendships have been made, some have been lost, and I've seen myself grow as a person and a writer thanks to this fic.

Enough personal reflection - that will be for after this fic is over. I can give my thanks later.

For now though, enjoy this little drabble on the wonders that is Sirry.

Enjoy~

* * *

He couldn't help himself as he laughed uproariously, leaning back onto the couch they were sitting on as tears streamed from his eyes. The green-eyed brunette squirmed, choking on his laughter as he tried to bat away Sirius' searching hands.

"Si - Sirius, please, stop!" Harry gasped, writhing beneath Sirius' large hands. The older man snickered as he ran his fingertips lightly over Harry's side. "Please!"

"I like it when you beg," Sirius said lowly, nuzzling Harry's bared shoulder where his shirt had slipped to the side. Harry's breath hitched once more as Sirius' calloused hands moved underneath his shirt to stroke his flat stomach. The pale muscles leapt under his strong touch, and a shiver shot straight down Harry's spine. He arched into the touch, his toes curling.

"Sirius..." Harry said breathlessly. It sounded like exaltation, and Sirius barely was able to stop himself from ravaging his godson where he lay.

"Tell me to stop," Sirius ordered, and Harry's eyes widened in shock as the older man glared at him seriously. "Tell me to stop if you do not want this, do not want me. The moment you let me, I will not be able to control myself any further. I won't be able to stop; I'll never be able to stop." Sirius kissed the corner of Harry's eye, and the younger man was startled to feel Sirius' steady hands on his stomach falter slightly. "I have no control when it comes to you, Harry. So please, stop me, because I will not be able to stop myself."

Harry gazed softly at Sirius, meeting the other man's wildly desperate gaze with his own calm one. "Why are you questioning yourself, questioning me, now Sirius?" Harry trailed his hands up Sirius' arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake, to cup his lover's face. Harry smiled deviously. "You just threw me down and was about to have your way with me, and your chickening out _now_? Where'd your balls go?"

"When did you get so vulgar?" Sirius teased, his furrowed brow soothed over by Harry's words.

"I've spent too much time with you," Harry replied carelessly, wrapping his arms around Sirius' neck. "You've been corrupting me."

"Maybe I should see just how corruptible you truly are," Sirius growled, his fingers wandering beneath the waistband of Harry's pants.

"Looks like you found those balls you were missing," Harry smirked, lifting his hips up to let Sirius slip off his pants. The older man jerked as slender fingers brushed against them, moaning softly into Harry's ear. "I'm glad - tonight would be so much less fun without them and, no matter how much I love you, spending the rest of my life with a eunuch is the most appealing of prospects."

Sirius pulled back, his hand resting on Harry's lower stomach, and stared at Harry for a long moment. Harry smiled, a soft genuine smile that never failed to take his breath away, and Sirius leaned down for a deep kiss.

Only Harry could make an insult turn out so damn romantic.

* * *

I usually don't like writing that much about the drabbles themselves because I like letting people read it as they choose and interpret it in different ways, but I really wanted to give a slight background to this fic. As you can see, this drabble would be set while Sirius and Harry are together; in fact, this drabble to me is the prelude to their first time together.

I don't know how anyone else took it, but that is just my personal idea on this chapter's back story.

I'll finish up with the usual 'please review!' and all that good stuff, but I think it is worth mentioning that this is shaping up to be a busy week for me fanfiction wise.

Why? Because:

- I have posted the first chapter of my Hector/Ninian (FE) small chaptered story.  
- I am researching for the sixth chapter of A Moment of Mercy (FE).  
- I am in the planning stages of a Tibarn/Ike/Haar threeshot (FE _and _crack!).  
- I am writing the fourth chapter of Imperfect Heirs.  
- I'm making preperations for the continuation of the Kingsley/Harry drabble.  
- I have the next addition to the MWAHA 'verse partially written and to be completed soon.  
- I have the forty-seventh chapter for Harry's Chosen One in the works.  
- And I am making headway on a threeshot Fenrir/Harry as a belated birthday gift for Phee, who really should have gotten it a long time ago.

Whew. I have my work cut out for me! Still, that'll just make the rest of the week interesting for you guys, no?

'Til then!

Ariaeris~

Ps: Because I'm a sucker for gift fics, the person who gives the 200th review will get a long oneshot for any pairing of your choice. So be the first and get your fic - I mean, it's not like I have anything else to do but write more fics. /end affectionate sarcasm.


	47. Accord 9: Waking Up From Dreaming

Ah, it seems like so long since I last updated this, and yet I know I have spent longer between chapters for this series. Still, with all my recent updates and stories (really, May was like my fanfiction Viagra month), eight days have seemed like forever.

For waiting patiently though as I indulged my Kingsley/Harry Stream of Consciousness fetish, I have a new chapter for all of you! It is going to be a little confusing for a lot of people, and that is because the very last sentence is going to make most of you have to read the drabble again, the identity of one of the character's changing the entire structure behind the fic.

That is not to say that I didn't leave hints to who that character is, but the revelation will change the average reader's understanding of this chapter. Or, at least it will if you are familiar with the anime/manga series it is connected to.

In any case, everything will (hopefully) make sense in the end.

Enjoy~

* * *

"The divide between time and space is collapsing."

Harry stared at the intricate magical circle before him, acknowledging the woman's presence with a single nod.

"Do you know why?" The woman asked, walking towards him at a soft, slow pace. Considering the realm of darkness they resided in at the moment, it appeared as if she was gliding more than anything else.

"Yes," Harry replied, his eyes never leaving the circle. His eyes, unguarded by his glasses, traced every curvature and symbol inlayed within it.

"Then you know what purpose you serve at the moment," she concluded.

"I can not raise him from the dead," Harry said, and the woman nodded in agreement.

"Such a thing is impossible, though not if he fulfills his wish."

"Do you want him too?" Harry asked, turning to face her for the first time. Red eyes glimmered curiously.

"I do not believe that is any of your business," She replied, not cold in the traditional sense, but enough of a warning that he quieted.

The woman reached out, her long sable hair flowing like inky water with the movement, to brush her fingertips mere centimeters from the circle. A small smile curved her lips as she traced the air in front of what appeared to be a sigil in the shape of a roaring lion.

"You will return to him?" She asked rhetorically, already knowing the answer.

"I will return to his time, that is all." Harry said, unnerved by her closeness to his circle. "If it is meant to be then it will occur. If we are meant to be together, than we will be."

"You are," She said without a doubt. "And you will find happiness with him. It is _hi_-"

"Don't use that word in front of me," Harry cut her off, uncaring of the rudeness of his actions. She chuckled, as if amused. "You know I do not like it."

"You preach it, accept it, and follow it knowing that it exists, and yet you are repulsed by the sound of it," she mused, grinning Cheshire cat-like as she spoke, and Harry met her humor with a small frown. "Willful ignorance? You will never get anything done like that."

"Don't you have anything better to do than lecture me?" Harry asked irately, her presence rubbing him the wrong way. Every time he met her he learned something new, even things he would rather have left unknown.

"No. I seemed to have been relegated to the position of instructor recently. If not you then it will be my inevitable successor," she seemed amused by the notion, and Harry noticed that her eyes shone fondly when she spoke of him.

"You? Showing responsibility?" Harry chuckled. "Should I be frightened?"

She laughed with him, and it was almost like they were old friends.

"Watch after that boy, will you?" Harry asked, and she nodded in understanding. Harry could empathize with the boy who should not have existed, and had always sought the best for the Boy-Who-Would-Never-Have-Lived.

"I will, though it will cost you," she stated seriously. "He has begun to move forward, thanks to the people he has met."

"Including you?" Harry asked curiously, stepping towards his circle that would send him to where he needed to be.

"I have begun to move forward as well," she said, and Harry paused at the threshold of his magic.

"Then I will talk to you once I am meant to then," Harry said, refusing to get choked up over a woman kept to the world she had left long ago. "Good-bye."

Yuuko said nothing, watching him silently as he left his dream and walked into reality.

* * *

For all those who knew that it was xxxHoLiC I was talking about, then congratulations! You're all quite the genii, aren't you?

In any case, I think I left this vague enough that I didn't spoil anything for those who are reading xxxHoLiC and Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles, even though the reader up to date with series will notice that there are hints of recent revelations.

For those confused, yes this is the prequel of what could possibly be a Godric/Harry fic (remember the leonine sigil and Harry commenting on going back in time?), where Harry has to return to Godric's time (much like Syaoran), but most likely will not be expanded upon. If I receive some positive feedback though, I'll think about putting it on the backburner.

For anyone who wants an actual Godric/Harry fic though, I present The Plot Bunny Whisperer and her superb birthday fic to me, which is on both her profile and my favorites list. Go read and review it; though I am in no way impartial towards it, I think it is turning out great!

And yes, Phee, that was yet another stalling tactic to make up for not getting the Fenrir/Harry fic out. I have a chapter written and the second one half-written - I will begin posting once The Falcon Cannot Hear is finished.

Ariaeris~

Ps: As of now, the poll on my profile stands with Bill and Cedric tied for first, Blaise trailing behind them only slightly, with Viktor in fourth. Kingsley is then in fifth, Sirius behind him by one vote, and Oliver after him. Remus and Godric hold the antepenultimate and penultimate spots respectively, and Lucius is dragging home last. If the person who pushed Godric up above Lucius steps forward, I'll write them a small oneshot for not letting my personal favorite be in last.


	48. Deviation 9: Secretarial Prerogative

/Sigh/ I had hoped this series would be over by the end of May, but it looks like it is going to spill over into the beginning of June. Listen to me; I make it sound like this series is a burden, but it is the exact opposite! This series has taught me so much, has gifted me with new friends, and has sparked my love for writing in ways nothing had ever done before.

Even though it sounds like I'm getting tired in the home stretch, I hope that these last few chapters reflect none of that hypothetical weariness. I want this series to go out on a bang. I want you to be amused by this drabble, smile at the George/Luna one coming up next, and have the final accord strike a chord within you. And for the finale (and it has been so hard to choose from Harry's suitors - to find just a _single_ Mr. Right, just _one_ Chosen One, has been incredibly difficult), I want you all (from those who have stuck with me since the beginning to those who I've just met recently) to leave this series just as pleased with it as I will be.

Only three more chapters to go, and then we will be completed. Heh, I think my sighs are beginning to sound more wistful than tired!

* * *

Percy Weasley was nothing if not a man of schedules. Certain things happened every day, as was the tendency of an ordinary agenda. Minster Shacklebolt arrived at his office at dawnbreak, his old Auror training allowing him to be up and ready at what Percy secretly thought was an inhuman time to be awake, and asked for two cups of coffee. Less than half an hour later, Head Auror Potter arrived as well, his current Auror-ness allowing him to be just as unnaturally functional at such a time, greeting Percy with a few polite pleasantries before joining the Minister in his office.

Alone.

At around midday, the two would finally leave, sparking rumors about what exactly the two did in that office (no one knew, but there were enough random guesses that someone had to be at least partially correct). Many thought they were discussing politics or griping about unfair Auror policies that remained unchangeable, even with them holding two of the most powerful positions in the Ministry. Others (including the infamous Lovegood girl, who had taken over her father's rag of a newspaper following his retirement to hunt Huggles or something else with an equally ridiculously name) were convinced that they two were secretly plotting to take over the Wizarding world and rule it as co-dictators for life.

No matter what the theory though, most people had come to the conclusion that they were most definitely, without a doubt, absolutely positively fucking each other's brains out.

It was to Percy's eternal mortification that he was able to verify that final rumor.

It had been an ordinary, regular, normal day when Head Auror Potter had not shown up to his daily, never-to-be-missed, meeting with Minister Shacklebolt. The Minister, being the slightly neurotic man that everyone knew he was, had rushed out of his office, right past Percy who had been bringing him some papers that needed to be signed at the earliest possible date, and into the Atrium, bellowing at the top of his lungs that he wanted his lover _now, _and until he got him all Ministry work was to be suspended so that everyone could take part in a global manhunt for the missing savior.

Needless to say, the poor, innocent secretary that the Minister had bowled over was _not_ happy with him. In fact, he was down right furious at the man's immature behavior. Seriously, a manhunt for one man, no matter how important he was?

Still, twenty minutes and five emergency floo calls to various nations for assistance later, Harry had randomly popped up looking slightly frazzled. His reason for his tardiness; the café he went to every morning had been out of his favorite kind of muffin and so he had to go to the other side of the globe in order to get his favorite foodstuff.

The cookie-dough muffin hanging from his mouth during his recounting had been enough evidence for the Minister and the older man had practically dragged the savior back to his office, stripping their clothes along the way, bowling into a still disoriented Weasley, and dragging him along for the ride.

Percy was nothing if not a man of schedules. Minister Shacklebolt arrived at dawnbreak, Head Auror Potter came shortly after, Ministerial Secretary Weasley ran out to the nearest café to get three cups of extra black, no sugar, maybe a bit of cream on a good day, cups of coffee and a cookie-dough muffin, and then shared breakfast with his two utterly, completely, and ridiculously sexy lovers before starting the work day.

It was definitely a schedule he could get used to.

* * *

If Kamerreon is correct and Harry and Kingsley make Harley, than Percy and Harry and Kingsley makes Parley. You know, like a cute nickname for Parliament, which makes a vaguely amusing pun considering that these three guys all work for the Ministry of Magic.

...You know, I can almost see some of you hiding your faces in shame from the bad humor. Don't blame me (or throw rotten e-produce), I did the best with what I've got!

While I dodge the tomatoes that have materialized at high velocities aimed towards me head, why don't you take the time to review? You win my undying loyalty if you do...

Ariaeris~


	49. Final Deviation: Long Awaited Awakening

Wow; we're really getting there. Near the end, that is. I honestly can't believe it; the end is right _there_ and it is amazing.

I know you all are probably getting really tired of hearing my amazement that I am actually getting this finished (even if it is pretty damn amazing; with two multiple-month-long hiatuses, I am surprised I am even shooting for an ending), but it is pretty cool, no? I won't be able to give it the honors of first multi-chaptered story I finished (that honor goes to The Falcon Cannot Hear, my pet metaphysical plunny, and technically It's Over 400,000! But I don't count that one, and neither should you) but it still feels like a landmark.

In any case, this chapter is dedicated to Pandora of Ithilien, or Pandy-chan as she is so affectionately known. Though I've had many reviewers come and go over the course of this series, Pandy-chan has remained firm and strong, reviewing basically every chapter. Going outside her comfort zone, she took a chance and found that, wow, I'm actually a pretty damn good writer (and believe me, if anyone recognizes a talented writer, it's one such as her).

So, in honor of the first requests sent in, I give you a George/Luna drabble, dedicated to Pandora of Ithilien.

Enjoy~

_

* * *

_

_I dreamt of you._

She had whispered softly in his ear, her blond tresses intertwined with glass-frail butterfly wings and glimpses of futures to come. Everything about her spoke of painfully human beauty, from her too thin hips to her protruding ribs, her chapped lips and her red-ringed eyes, not from crying but from her onion-earrings (she had wanted to do something out of the ordinary, he remembers she said without the slightest hint of irony).

_I saw you._

Red-rings only brought out her pale, pale blue eyes, eyes that saw more than anyone else. People disliked her eyes; jealousy? Fear? No, incongruence.

That was it.

_I heard you._

Whispered words, and yet they were spoken in a dream. His dream of course, but it was hers as well. He couldn't forget Fred, his beloved Twin, not his brothers or his mother or his father or his seemingly never-ending expanding family.

She could have been shouting, screaming, and yet her words sounded sweeter than the sweetest of wines, and the gods themselves would have envied such an ambrosial sound; he felt like he could live forever, listening to her sing-song words of ever-lasting love to him.

_I felt you._

He loved her; everything about her, he cherished her with a love that seemed beyond him.

Sometimes it frightened him. Everyone he had loved, loved his whole life, suddenly seemed usurped by this sprite, this nymph that invaded his dreams, his mind, his every waking thought.

It was a pleasant sort of insanity, and yet nothing seemed saner than to devote his life to letting her live hers. In turn, her devotion gave him life, and it was cyclical; symbiotic, and like a tower of cards, she was a cornerstone, an irreplaceable crux that he was only beginning to realize he built his life around.

_I tasted you._

He couldn't understand how he could love a figment. They couldn't kiss, couldn't touch, couldn't make love, and though he had never been a particularly...active young man, he longed for the connection such an act would bring.

She was slippery as a snake, illusive and evanescent, as a dream was wont to be.

Her hair would be as tangled as it looked, and yet it would still feel like corn silk between his fingers, because she was a gloriously perfect imperfection, and he loved every little flaw that comprised her being, counterweighed and balanced by each and every quirk and behavior.

_Wake up._

Crimson eyelashes fluttered, and clouded blue eyes slowly revealed themselves to the world, unwilling to let go of his dream. He loved everything about his dream, everything, an all encompassing love.

And yet, there was one thing his dreams couldn't bring.

Lazy blue eyes glanced to his left and a sly grin overtook his face at the glittering pale, pale blue eyes met his. A pale, slender finger traced his lips, and he puckered them in an over-exaggerated kiss. She didn't laugh, not like their daughter did, but she smiled and whispered a single word, and their today was rung in with that name.

"_George."_

He smiled. Even dreams couldn't grant him this, and he fell in love with her once more.

"Luna."

* * *

Considering that I am writing this after taking three SAT IIs (I had only planned to take two, but then I decided, what the hell, you only live once. Bad idea - don't take the Spanish reading SAT II. It isn't worth it.), responding to a bevy of reviews that I couldn't thanks to exams and studying for SAT IIs, and finishing up the first chapter of my Fenrir/Harry story for Phee (to be posted later today), it seemed a little odd to write this drabble in its entirety after so many grueling acts of mental fortitude.

But then a remix of Closer by Joe Inoue came up on Youtube and inspiration hit me like a freight train to plunnyville. The song doesn't even relate to this drabble and yet it fits so perfectly in my mind. Weird.

I'm getting off topic though. I just wanted to say that I hope you all liked this chapter - especially you Pandy-chan! This is all for you! - and to give e-band-aids for anyone else who just suffered through some version of the Standardized Tests from Hell. You have my sympathy.

Don't forget to review, lovelies!

Ariaeris~


	50. Final Accord: Gently Ending

We're actually here.

Despite my constant reminiscing for the past few chapters, it still comes as a surprise to me that this is _the_ final accord. It's so weird that this is the final addition to the _Harry's Chosen One_ series, not counting the final decision. Sure, I have the revising process after this, where I will go over every chapter, correct and smooth out flaws, and undoubtedly cringe over the hackneyed and crappy plots, but _this is it._

No more writing new chapters.

No more fun pairing up Harry with ten of the hottest guys in his fandom in the same series.

No more jumping through mental, on-fire hula hoops in order to create fifty new and mildly interesting plots.

No more beating off rabid plunnies, all who want me to expand every single drabble into a chaptered story/series. Even if they _have _succeeded on a few accounts, and undoubtedly will a few more times during the revising process. /Glares at Marcus/Harry drabble/

No more _Harry's Chosen One._

I.../sniff/

I hope you all enjoy this final accord! And, from the depths of my heart, I hope that you all have at least found some enjoyment from this series.

So,

Enjoy~

* * *

It was a comfortable feeling; his stomach shifting, the air rushing from his lungs, eyes watering somewhere between sorrow and delight. Every limb felt like it was on fire, every lock of hair swept in front of his face only to be thrown in every which way the next moment.

He felt like he was weightless, out of control.

Falling, he had realized, must have been the greatest feeling in the world.

Helter-skelter, going through life without a care in the world, waiting for the inevitable crash; that was how a life should be lived. That was how he lived. His entire world shifting with every revelation, his body twisting with every change.

Memories passed in a storm of unconsciousness, and he released them like feathers in the wind, watching all his pain and torment be torn away from him and flung to the far corners of the world.

Inevitably though, all good things must come to an end. Even when falling, you eventually reached the ground.

Reality hits hard, war harder, and death hardest. Lives fled in freefall, torn from him in a hurricane of whispered words of hatred and sickly green light. Some, some…he couldn't even be there for them. They died cold, alone: how he thought he would, back in the days of his childhood littered with the shards of broken innocence and newly birthed cynicism.

But he succeeded; he overcame the deaths of his beloveds, went on to destroy the world, and kept falling.

Endlessly falling, falling through the fragments of a life he had unwillingly surrendered for the betterment of the world.

In those moments, falling through twilight and fog and endless universes lit by dim constellations, he thought that heroes did not exist.

He was wrong; out there in the wide world of possibilities and recreated hopes and ever-changing lives, light lingered in the eyes of the newborn innocent. And, even more surprising, that same light was rekindled in the weary-eyed soldiers of the should-be-forgotten generation.

It had astounded him, to see people calmly float down to earth, to end their endless tumble through reality, to watch the world with loving eyes and decide to give up their lives, their own happiness, in order to create a better future for the world.

_They_ were heroes, not him. He had not risen to the challenge; he had not wanted to sacrifice himself for the world. He had wanted to live, to continue falling while the rest of the world burned.

Those people, who focused their eyes on the horizon just out of reach, the future dedicated to their children that had been untouched by the war that had soiled their own souls, had torn into his life with the endless ferocity of a maelstrom, throwing him bodily from his carefree fall. They had buffeted him; torn down his shields and every defense he had created around his heart, and had torn him to pieces.

And then they had recreated him, made him into a better person.

He was still selfish though. His body ached for that felling it had grown used to, for the falling that had started to grow dull. But they understood though, none more so that a brave, frightened young man who had stood against his peers and had shouted to the heavens that the world they had existed in was _wrong_. Had consciously rejected the easy life he could have had, had turned away at the precipice his pure birth presented him, and had chosen the grueling, painful, and unrewarding task of reshaping the world with naught but his bare hands and his unerring determination.

He was still falling, but they (he) served as a constant source of strength, a parachute that slowed his descent into apathy and comforted as he took his first steps onto earth once more.

Falling may have been comforting, but his touch down, wrapped in the arms of both his old and his new loved ones, was infinitely more rewarding.

* * *

I'm not entirely pleased with this drabble, which is painful because I wanted to go out on a bang. Unfortunately, I needed this chapter up now, so...

I do like the implications to be found here though. It's almost like a counterpart of _The Falcon Cannot Hear_; while that fic hit heavily on the cynicism side of The Sliding Scale of Idealism vs. Cynicism with an idealistic but uncertain ending, this drabble started out on the idealistic side, hit a bump on the cynicism side, and ended triumphantly idealistic (especially with the Blaise/Harry hints as opposed to the tragic Kingsley/Harry ones there).

No matter how much I love _The Falcon Cannot Hear_, I love happy endings more.

And maybe you all see this as a happy ending as well, or at least the prelude to one. Soon the final chapter will be up; my personal opinion on who Harry's Mr. Right is.

...I hope no one eviscerates me for my decision. Seeing how closely head-to-head my poll is, someone is going to be leaving this series unsatisfied, which is the last thing I want. Speaking of my poll though, it will be taken down some time early tomorrow morning according to my time zone. So there is no time zone confusion (which I hate so very much), it will not be up tomorrow. So cast your votes if you haven't already, and I'll give the final results in the final chapter.

Until then,

Ariaeris~


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